


We're All A Little Broken

by BadSideOf45



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Accidents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Cuddling & Snuggling, Falling In Love, Geographical Isolation, Halloween, M/M, Past Character Death, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24622195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadSideOf45/pseuds/BadSideOf45
Summary: Patrick Stump is widower content with his position as caretaker of his friends' isolated lodge in Alaska.Then a handsome, charming pilot flies into his life, making him ask himself: Would he consider replacing contentment with happiness?**Edited 6/10/20** (Story flows better now. Sorry, I'm a perfectionist.)
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	We're All A Little Broken

**Author's Note:**

> This story came from three thoughts: a widower, a caretaker, and an isolated lodge.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this.
> 
> NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS OR SITUATIONS ARE REAL; THEY ARE TOTALLY FICTIONAL.

Patrick was swaying to the music from the band playing on the stage in front of him. 

It was his and Ian's five year anniversary, and his partner had surprised him with tickets to see Elvis Costello at the Elbo Room in Chicago, Illinois.

Ian was behind Patrick, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him into his chest. Patrick leaned his head back to place it on Ian’s shoulder, and after a lazy, slow kiss Patrick smiled at his lover. 

“This is just perfect. I love it. I love you.” 

Ian nuzzled his face in the warmth of Patrick’s neck. 

“No, You’re perfect. I’ll love you forever, Patrick,” Ian whispered in Patrick’s ear.

Patrick was so in love with this man - they had met in college two years ago while working at the same coffee shop. They had bonded over a mutual love of tea and old-school blues, until finally Patrick worked up enough courage to ask Ian to a show.

They had been together ever since. 

Suddenly, the stage was morphed into an emergency room, music becoming doctors speaking medical jargon at him and nurses restraining him from following the gurney.

“No, no, NO!” Patrick shouted over and over, covering his ears and squeezing his eyes tightly shut, wanting this all to be a nightmare.

********************************************************

Patrick’s eyes flew open and he sat straight up in bed. His heart was racing a mile a minute and there were tears flowing down his face. 

‘Just another dream’ Patrick thought to himself before angrily wiping at his wet cheeks. He turned to check the time. His alarm clock was supposed to go off in fifteen minutes; grumpily he turned off the alarm and begrudgingly got out of bed.

He went downstairs to the kitchen and thanked every deity he could think of for the state of the art Breville One-Touch Automatic Tea Maker on the counter in front of him. 

Patrick inhaled the intoxicating scent of the English Breakfast tea that had been brewed for him before his feet even hit the floor. 

He took his “Irish Men Do It Better” mug (it had been a gag gift from Ian many Christmases ago) out of the cupboard and proceeded to pour a nice, warm cup.

Patrick began to sip the tea as he slowly walked over to the large windows facing out to the beautiful meadow of grass located in front of the lodge, a picturesque lake beyond. 

He had been working as the winter caretaker for the Wintertide Lodge in Qanuk, Alaska for the last three of his 30 years. 

Patrick had been quite content here at the isolated lodge all by himself for five months out of the year; the only living person he gets to see is the bush pilot who must fly in once a week to bring supplies. 

The float plane is the only way both in and out of Wintertide Lodge.

He had first found this charming idyllic little lodge while searching for the perfect isolated spot away from the hustle and bustle of the big city (Chicago) he was previously living in with his partner. 

It had been the first vacation spot he and Ian had been to as a couple. Ian wanted Hawaii, but Patrick, being a bit of a fluffy man, had balked at the idea. 

They settled on Alaska.

Their first night at Wintertide they had met the owners, Seth and Aaron, a lovely couple who had purchased the inn from the previous owners. 

The couples became fast friends, promising to email and Facetime as often as they could. 

It had been to Seth and Aaron that Patrick had turned to after losing Ian, needing desperately to get out of Chicago, away from memories that seemed to lurk around every corner, on every doorstep. 

He begged them for any position at the isolated lodge, and he gladly and gratefully accepted the position of caretaker they so generously offered to him.

Patrick finished his tea and went back into the kitchen, rinsing the mug in the sink and placing it gently in the dish drainer. 

He glanced up at the clock and realized he only had an hour until the supply plane was due to arrive at the dock for the first drop of October.

He walked back into his bedroom, stripped and hopped into the rain-head shower, a decadent luxury that he looked forward to every year. 

As he was washing his hair, he remembered the shared showers with Ian, quiet whispers of love and gentle touches that turned into intense lovemaking sessions against the shower wall. 

Patrick was aroused by this memory, so he quickly took his cock in hand and stroked himself, wishing it was Ian’s lush, warm mouth instead of his own fist. 

As he came, he cried out his lover’s name, which, like his semen, was swallowed by the water disappearing down the drain.

Patrick stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. 

As he brushed his teeth, he took in his reflection. He didn’t need to have on his much-needed glasses; he knew he was a balding, bearded ginger with plenty of padding around his middle. 

Patrick sighed and went into the bedroom to throw on some clothes. Because he had taken so long in the bathroom, he now only had fifteen minutes until the plane arrived. 

As he dressed, he remembered that Gus, the veteran pilot who had been flying for Wintertide for 20 years, had told Patrick on the flight out to the lodge last Wednesday that he was retiring. 

He and his wife were moving back down to the lower 48, and a new 35 year old pilot had been hired to fly supplies out and check on Patrick once a week for the next five months. 

Patrick furrowed his brow. What had Gus told him the man’s name was? Paul? Phil? Oh - wait. Pete. It was Pete.

Patrick shook himself out of his thoughts and glanced at the clock, noting that the plane would be here in five minutes, giving him barely enough time to exit the house and drive the small electric cart down to the dock.

“I just hope the new guy has good taste in music,” Patrick thought to himself as he drove down the cobblestone path to the dock, preparing to wait for the float plane and its new aviator.

****************************************************

The float plane was thirty minutes late, earning himself a strike by his name on Patrick’s Mental Shit List. 

The pilot brought the aircraft in smoothly, however, coming to a full stop almost directly across from Patrick. 

Once the engine was shut off Patrick could hear the annoying whiny chords of a wailing guitar and the loud invitation from Joe Elliott to “Pour Some Sugar On Me.” 

He cocked his eyebrow above his black-rimmed glasses.

Oh well, what did he expect? Not everyone had his fondness for Elvis Costello and John Coltrane.

The music stopped suddenly and the door closest to the dock opened, allowing a short man wearing neon yellow shoes to jump down to the dock. 

“I hope you have a bathroom handy because I have had to piss for the last thirty minutes!” 

The pilot grinned wide, taking a rope lying on the dock and quickly tying the pontoon struts to the cleats affixed to the wood. 

Patrick, lost for words, only pointed towards the main lodge. 

“Thanks, Angel!” Pete said with a wink before turning and jogging up the path.

Patrick only then realized his jaw was almost on the ground.

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

He didn’t know what to be more offended at - the fact that this stranger didn’t introduce himself before relieving his bladder, or the fact that he had called him Angel.

That was Ian’s favorite nickname for Patrick, using it only during their most intimate of moments.

How dare this uncouth neanderthal of a man utter the single word that he held closest to his heart?

Patrick could feel the tips of his ears turning red, his hands clenching into tight fists.

“Hey Angel - isn’t this place great? I really thought it was - “

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!” Patrick thundered at the pilot.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to offend you.” the pilot said, throwing up his hands in front of him.

“I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. Name’s Pete Wentz, your bush plane pilot, supplier, and possibly sole best friend for the next five months!”

“Highly unlikely,” Patrick muttered under his breath, hands still clenched.

Pete removed his aviator sunglasses before looking around uncomfortably, his eyes finally landing on Patrick. 

“So, do you have a name, or should I just say ‘Hey You’ in your general direction?”

“Patrick Stump,” the caretaker ground out. 

Pete snickered..

“I bet you get a lot of jokes about your name up here, huh?”

This asshole just didn’t know when to quit.

“I need to get these supplies up to the lodge, so feel free to do... whatever until I’m done.” Patrick said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, I’ll be glad to help you -”

“No!” Patrick quickly cut Pete off. “This is what I get paid for. There are refreshments in the kitchen and a TV with satellite cable in the great room.”

“Oh, okay,” Pete said, but Patrick had turned his back to him in an act of blatant dismissal and was hauling boxes from the plane to the cart.

“I’ll just…” Pete pointed his thumb towards the lodge before turning and walking back up the path, hands buried in his jeans pockets, shoulders hunched.

‘Complete, utter asshole,’ Patrick said to himself as he worked. ‘What a total dick.’

Patrick did some mental calculations in his head. 

‘Once a week for five months is roughly 20 times I’m going to have to see him.’

He had a sinking feeling it was going to be a LONG five months.

********************************************************

Patrick put all the supplies in their proper places and closed the large pantry and refrigerator doors when he was done. 

His anger had slowly dissipated to a low boil. 

Patrick hoped that the impertinent young man would be gone by now, but when he entered the great room of the lodge, the pilot was lounging on the couch eating Cheetos and watching a Halloween-themed Lifetime movie.

Patrick took a moment to study the aviator from a hidden nook. 

He was taller than Patrick, but not by much. He had whiskey colored eyes with gold flecks in them, long dark eyelashes, and a full set of nice looking lips. His hair was closely cropped to his head, but still showed a little of the natural curl that would surely spring to life if given the chance.

Pete was dressed in jeans, tight enough to cling to his toned thighs, but not enough so that Patrick could make out the size of his package. 

Patrick’s eyes traveled a few inches higher before they came to an abrupt stop on a fascinating tattoo peeking out of the bottom of the black t-shirt Pete was wearing under his red and black buffalo checked flannel overshirt.

Patrick could feel his dick twitch with interest.

‘Traitor,’ Patrick’s brain accused.

Patrick thought of grandmothers in bikinis and cold showers before clearing his throat and stepping all the way into the room.

Pete turned around, Cheeto midway to his mouth. He quickly placed the bag on the coffee table and stood, wiping his Cheetos-dust coated fingers on the thighs of his jeans. 

“Listen, Patrick, I’m really sorry about what happened on the dock. I’m just a little too eager to make a good impression and sometimes I get carried away.” The pilot looked contrite with a hint of sadness around the edges.

Patrick let out a large sigh and gave Pete a small nod and smile. 

Pete grinned widely once again and pointed to the other end of the couch.

Patrick chose to sit in the comfy recliner next to the fireplace.

Pete’s smile dimmed a little. 

“Do you like these Lifetime movies? They have Hallmark movies beat!”

Patrick shook his head. 

“No, I prefer to spend my time reading.”

Ian would put his head in Patrick’s lap while they read, pointing out a funny or thoughtful phrase that he wanted to share with his lover.

“Patrick?” Patrick shook his head and realized Pete had asked him a question. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said, what do you read?” Pete said as he licked the Cheeto dust from his fingers. 

Either Pete was incredibly dim-witted, or he was well-versed in the not-so-subtle art of seduction.

“What I read, yeah, um, I spend most of my time learning new languages. I’ve already mastered French and Yupik. Right now I’m studying German and Spanish.”

Pete blinked rapidly. “Wow, you must be really smart. What are you doing in a job here when you could be in the states making serious money?”

Patrick’s face turned to stone, hands clutching onto the chair arms until he had made deep indentations in the plush fabric.

“THAT is NONE of your business,” he said in an icy tone, immediately shutting down any further conversation.

The pilot rose quickly from the couch, sensing that he had offended the caretaker in some way.

“I’ll just put these Cheetos back and head on out…”

“Just leave them. I’ll take care of them,” Patrick said in a flat tone without looking in Pete’s direction.

“Ummm….okay - bye then. Nice to meet you.”

Patrick just gave a curt nod, still staring into the fireplace.

The front door opened and shut quietly, and after several minutes Patrick could hear the plane’s engine start, signalling the exit of the most vexing man he’d ever met.

Patrick sat in the same spot until the room turned dark, angrily wiping away hot tears, confused thoughts and feelings running through him.

He wished like Hell Ian could be here to hold him.

***************************************

“He’s a rude, arrogant prick.” Patrick bitched at the laptop.

He was Facetiming Seth and Aaron a few days later.

Seth frowned at Aaron before turning back to the camera. “He was perfectly polite to us when he came to interview. Seemed very excited about the job…”

Seth smiled smugly and continued.

“Also said some really nice things about you…”

“He called me Angel,” Patrick said softly, trying to forget the way it had carelessly slid off Pete’s tongue.

“Patrick, he didn’t know. You can’t hold something against a guy he has absolutely no previous knowledge of.” Aaron replied somewhere off camera.

“He was such a cocky little shit - why did you pick him anyway? I thought you’d choose someone with a little more experience.”

Seth and Aaron were quiet for a few seconds. “It’s just something we felt compelled to do.”

Patrick furrowed his brow.

“What kind of answer is that?”

Seth frowned and sighed loudly. “It’s not our tale to tell, Patrick. Just remember, no one has led a perfect life, ever. Perhaps you could cut him some slack?”

Patrick’s shoulders drooped. 

“I’m sorry guys. After all you’ve done for me, I shouldn’t be giving you a ration of shit for hiring a pilot you feel is qualified for the job. I’ll try to be nicer to him at next week’s drop.”

Aaron popped his head sideways into the frame.

“Now there’s the Patrick we know and love. Who knows? Maybe if you could learn to tolerate him, you two might find each other’s company enjoyable, maybe enough to get phys-”

“Night guys - Love You!” Patrick squeaked before quickly cutting off the call.

Patrick closed the laptop and placed it on his nightstand before turning off the light. 

He closed his eyes and thought of the surprise picnic Ian had taken him on the last time they were here. 

It was under an isolated sheltering tree that sat by a stream fed by a glacier. 

Patrick’s hand skimmed down his stomach over a nipple before ducking into his boxers, lightly stroking his cock. 

He remembered that day vividly - after much persuasion he had let Ian strip him and lay him out on the blanket, kissing Patrick’s entire body with his beautiful pink lips, bright laughing blue eyes looking up every so often to catch Patrick smiling. 

Patrick began to stroke his now fully hard cock with more enthusiasm.

Patrick had tangled his fingers in Ian’s blonde hair, a nod to his nordic heritage. Ian’s mouth was hot, gag reflex almost non-existent. Patrick pulled on it, pulling the six foot man up to him, begging him to make love to him as soon as possible. Ian grinned as he opened Patrick up, practically radiant as he slid home into Patrick’s waiting body and arms.

Patrick smiled, every other stroke roughly rubbing over the head, thinking of how Ian would always immediately find his prostate, teasing him until he thought he would go mad. 

When Patrick reached down to rub his perineum while roughly jerking his cock, his orgasm hit him strong, Ian’s name on his lips as always.

What disturbed Patrick, however, was the fact that it was gold-flecked brown eyes he saw behind his eyelids when he came.

*********************************************

By the time the next supply drop came, Patrick had been doing a lot of thinking. After the scolding from Seth and Aaron he had ashamedly admitted to himself that he had been too hard on Pete, and today he would try his hardest to be, well, friendlier.

Patrick met the supply plane with a steaming cup of coffee ready for Pete - a peace offering of sorts.

Pete opened the door, hopped from the plane, and made short work of tying the float plane down. 

He gave Patrick a small smile before reaching back into the plane and grabbing something.

Patrick held out the coffee as Pete turned back around.

“Truce?”

Pete stuck his hand out, a cheshire cat grin showing all of his teeth. 

“Truce!”

Patrick looked down at Pete’s hand.

There, in a small clay pot, was a tiny prickly cactus.

Patrick was completely gobsmacked. 

“What on Earth is that?”

Pete rolled his eyes, as if Patrick should already know the answer to his own question.

“It’s a cactus!”

Now it was Patrick’s turn to roll his eyes. He took the pot from Pete’s hands, exchanging it for the coffee. 

“I fail to understand how a cactus of all things can be a gift of peace,” Patrick said, examining the succulent closely.

Patrick looked up in time to see a flash of hurt in Pete’s eyes.

“I just thought you might like something to keep you company during the week, and since no pets are allowed, a plant would be the next best thing.”

Patrick bit his bottom lip, ashamed of himself for once again making Pete feel uncomfortable. 

“I like plants. I’ve never owned a cactus before - I’ll have to do research on how to care for it.”

Patrick put his hand out to touch Pete’s arm, but pulled back at the last second. 

Patrick smiled. “Thank you, I really like it.”

Pete smiled back and pointed his head towards the plane. 

“Can I help you unload this onto the cart and take it up to the lodge?”

Patrick nodded. “I would appreciate that.” 

Perhaps Patrick had misjudged Pete, just a tiny bit…

************************************************************************

Pete insisted on driving the cart full of supplies up to the lodge, giving Patrick time to contemplate Wintertide’s newest resident.

“So, does my new friend here have a name?”

“Yup,” Pete said, a smug smile on his face. “Leonardo, but you can call him Lenny.”

‘Oh,’ thought Patrick. ‘This is an interesting development - a man of culture and intellect.’

“I see, is he named after the inventor or the actor?”

Pete stopped the cart and turned to face Patrick.

“Are you kidding? He’s named after the most kick-ass Ninja Turtle of all time!”

Patrick pushed his glasses up his nose and scoffed loudly.

“Are you kidding me? Everyone knows that Donatello is the best Ninja Turtle bar none, therefore his name should be Donnie!”

Pete and Patrick spent the rest of the journey back to the lodge as well as the time it took to put away the supplies arguing over which Ninja Turtle had the most badass weapon. 

Patrick insisted that since the bo-staff was longer, it could sweep any enemies off their feet before they got close enough to Donatello to hurt him. 

Pete, however, countered with the fact that Leonardo had two katana swords, thus twice the amount of weaponry.

“And that, my friend, is why you are totally wrong,” Pete concluded his argument with a firm nod while leaning against the kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankles.

(And no, there was no way Patrick would admit that he had been a little distracted from Pete’s argument because he had been staring at Pete’s lean form and the interesting thorn tattoo that was peeking out from the collar of the white v-neck tee he had worn today.)

There was a brief awkward silence before Patrick heard Pete clear his throat. Patrick looked up into Pete’s eyes only to discover the other man was chuckling.

“What?” Patrick demanded, blushing with the discomfiture of being discovered blatantly checking Pete out.

“Oh, nothing,” Pete said breezily. “Do you mind if I raid your pantry for a snack? It’s a long trip back to Anchorage…”

“Of course - can I make you a sandwich or something?”

Pete smiled brightly at Patrick. “That sounds awesome.”

************************************************************

After lunch Patrick and Pete wandered into the great room and plopped down on opposite ends of the couch. As any polite host would, Patrick offered Pete the remote.

Pete automatically turned on The Lifetime Channel.

“Wow, obsess much?” teased Patrick, doing a very bad job of hiding the smile on his face.

Pete mock-frowned. 

“Hey - don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it - I’ve learned a lot from watching these made-for-TV rom-coms!”

“And I suppose this particular one has taught you a lot?”

Pete grabbed a pretzel from the bowl they had brought into the great room earlier and chewed on it. 

Patrick could see the gears in Pete’s head turning from where he was sitting.

“Yeah, I have, actually.” Pete replied. 

“It’s about a temporary nanny hired by a work-obsessed widowed executive to take care of his children. She ultimately teaches the whole family what’s really important in life - unconditional love, family, and the joy of living.” 

Patrick turned back to the TV screen, watching the movie quietly for a few minutes.

“Sounds like a lesson a lot of people in the world could learn from.”

After an hour of comfortable silence, Pete stood and stretched, once again giving Patrick a tantalizing glimpse of the tattoo on Pete’s lower stomach.

“Welp, I guess I’d better head out. Thanks for the lunch, and be sure to take extra good care of Lennie.”

“Donnie!”

Pete just rolled his eyes at Patrick. 

They walked to the main entrance of the lodge, where Pete grabbed his jacket and put it on while Patrick opened the door. 

They stood in the entryway for a few moments, neither sure of what to do or say.

“Be safe,” Patrick said in a quiet voice, reaching out to pull Pete’s shirt collar out from under his jacket, fingertips brushing Pete’s neck.

Pete smiled and nodded before heading down the path.

A few steps down the path, he turned and cocked his head.

“Say, do you think it’d be okay if I called you ‘Trick?”

Patrick was surprised by this request, and, if forced to admit it, a little charmed.

“If you insist,” Patrick answered, mock exasperation in his tone.

Pete walked backwards a few steps, grinning as widely as he could before turning and practically skipping his way down to the dock.

No doubt about it. Patrick was in trouble.

*****************************************************

That evening, Patrick was staring at the cactus AKA Lennie while eating his dinner. 

It was a thoughtful gesture from Pete, and he did really need to look up the proper care for a succulent.

Later, in bed with Lennie on the nightstand, Patrick researched cacti. 

Patrick turned off the light by the bed, the room now illuminated only by moonlight. 

He faced the little cactus, and sighed heavily.

“So, my name is Patrick, and I guess you’ll be staying here with me for a little while…”

*********************************************************

Two nights before Pete was scheduled to return Patrick may or may not have tipsy-Facetimed Seth and Aaron. 

“He brought me a cactus named Lennie! And I’ve started talking to it! What has my life become?”

Seth just stared quizzically at Patrick.

“Wait. What?”

“That is not a helpful answer.”

“Pete!” Patrick barreled on. “Pete brought me a cactus and named it Lennie so I would have a friend and I don’t know what to think about it and he’s just so frustratingly charming…”

“The cactus?” Seth teased, much to Patrick’s chagrin.

In his semi-drunken state, Patrick began to flap his hands around.

“No, Pete! At first I thought he was a complete jerk but now I, but now I…” Patrick trailed off, picking at invisible lint on his comforter.

“Perhaps you’re feeling a little kindness towards him?” Seth supplied.

Patrick just shrugged.

Seth sighed deeply. 

“Patrick,” he began softly. “I know you loved Ian, and that he loved you as well. But I think he would ultimately want you to be happy. You’ve been alone for five years. Isn’t it time you allow yourself to experience a little joie de vivre?”

“I just miss him so much.”

Seth nodded. “I know, Patrick, but Pete’s a really good guy, and it sounds like he’s trying his hardest to get on your good side.”

Patrick thought for a moment. “Maybe…” Patrick said quietly.

“Besides, now you can finally become more intimate with something besides your right hand,” Patrick heard Aaron snicker off screen.

“Har-dee-har-har,” Patrick said before ending the call.

*********************************************

The next day Patrick spent all his free time thinking about what Seth had said. 

He had only had two boyfriends in the past ten years; Ian being his only lover. 

He wasn’t sure anyone could hold up to the precious memories Patrick held deep in his heart of Ian making each of their intimate times special. 

He made Patrick feel needed, desired, wanted, but most of all, loved. 

His first boyfriend was a guy in his senior year in high school.

Afraid of being outed, he broke up with Patrick after two weeks.

At the beginning of his Junior Year in College, Patrick had been hired to work the same shift as Ian at a quaint little coffee shop located around the corner from the college campus.

It was love at first sight, and Patrick had been Ian’s for seven years.

Ian had become his whole world; his reason to get up in the morning, his reason to live.

Then he lost Ian, and Patrick’s world was turned upside-down.

****************************************

The following week, Pete surprised Patrick with fresh pears.

Patrick thanked him profusely, trying to pry out of him the source of the fruit.

“A gentleman must have his secrets,” Pete said mysteriously.

They unloaded the plane and put up the supplies in the pantry before digging into the fresh grilled chicken salad Patrick had made them for lunch.

While eating, they sat next to each other on the couch, Lenny on the coffee table in front of them.

“I see Lennie is doing well,” Pete said.

“Donnie,” Patrick grumbled around a bite of salad.

The lunch dishes were empty, and Pete insisted on watching “Ties That Bind,” a scary (by Lifetime’s standards) movie.

The movie was terrible, and there was one particularly uncomfortable scene, showing the seduction of the homeowner by the renter in a hot tub.

Although it was of no particular interest to Patrick, the sounds of the couples wet kisses and loud moans made him hyper-aware of the radiant body heat Pete was emitting onto Patrick’s thigh through his jeans.

Patrick thought he was going to bite a hole clean through his lower lip for the entire second half of the movie.

When the movie was over, Patrick and Pete cleaned up the lunch dishes and Pete declared it was time for him to leave.

“That was fun - I really enjoyed it.” Patrick said, a little surprised to find he meant it.

For some odd reason, Pete kept staring at Patrick’s bottom lip, as if it had hypnotized him.

“Yeah, the movie was okay, but the company was outstanding. See ya next week, Trick!”

And with a final glance at Patrick’s mouth, Pete was bounding down the path towards the float plane.

Patrick glanced at his reflection in the mirror by the door and blushed.

HIs bottom lip was swollen, dark pink in color.

Patrick looked back out the door at Pete, who gave him one last wave before shutting the door of the plane.

‘Maybe that movie wasn’t so bad after all’ Patrick pondered as he went back inside.

**************************************

Snuggled deep in the comforter on his bed the night before Pete’s next supply run, Patrick pushed up his glasses and began to research “How To Flirt.”

He had spent a good half-hour working up the nerve to even explore the topic.

Patrick typed “Flirting” into the Google search engine and hit enter.

There were several entries on the topic, so Patrick decided that in order to be as up-to-date on the best methods as he could be he would hit the Wikipedia link.

The list was a bit intimidating in its length.

Conversation  
Eye Contact  
Laughing  
Smiling  
Teasing  
Nicknames

‘Hmm,’ Patrick thought. ‘Pete and I have already kinda been doing most of this stuff…’

Patrick sat up straight up in bed.

Had he been unconsciously flirting with Pete?

Patrick began to panic, looking over to his favorite picture of Ian for comfort. Given what he was doing at the moment, it offered little solace.

He sat his skewed laptop back on his lap. Curiosity not yet sated, he continued to read:

Blowing a Kiss  
Casual Touching  
Small gifts, Love Letters or Poems  
Winking

Patrick thought a moment, pushing up his glasses with one hand. Doesn’t sound too difficult - not like it’s rocket science or anything.

Sexting

Uh-uh. No sir. No way in Hell.

Patrick slammed the lid down on his laptop and sat it on the nightstand.

He turned over on his side, the last suggestion creating all sorts of scenarios in his head.

Fuck it, Patrick thought, he’d wing it.

**********************************

When Pete arrived at the dock the next day Patrick had put on his tightest jeans (they showed his ass off quite nicely if he did say so himself), a navy blue thermal shirt unbuttoned enough to show a small tuft of reddish-blonde chest hair peeking out, and a maroon cardigan. Over all of it he had on his heavy Carhartt Jacket and a navy beanie.

It had snowed the night before, and Patrick’s heart jumped a little when Pete opened the door, smiling and waving before carefully hopping down onto the dock. 

Patrick helped him tie down the plane, then turned a bright smile in Pete’s direction.

“Hey!”

Pete’s grin grew wider.

“Hey ‘Trick.”

“Got my supplies?” Patrick said.

Pete’s grin dimmed a little.

“Oh, yeah. Would you like some help unloading it and driving it up to the lodge?”

Patrick’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, trying to figure out what he had done to lessen Pete’s smile.

They worked together in silence, remarking occasionally about the weather or the fall festivities taking place in Anchorage.

Once they reached the lodge, they worked in tandem to unload all the boxes onto the counters.

There was one box left on the floor when Patrick went back out to the kitchen from the pantry.

Patrick leaned over to lift it onto the counter.

Pete came out from the pantry and placed his hand on Patrick’s arm, stopping him.

“Um, you don’t have to open that one if you don’t want to. In fact, I’ll just take it back when I leave. It’s not important…”

Patrick left the package, but lightly grabbed Pete’s wrist with his own hand.

“But what if I want to open it?” he said quietly.

Pete looked into Patrick’s eyes.

Patrick had been wrong.

Pete’s eyes weren’t just brown, they were a dazzling mix of browns and greens and golds that, if given the chance, Patrick could easily drown in.

Patrick slowly let go of Pete’s wrist and adjusted his glasses. 

“It’s yours, after all,” Pete replied softly.

Patrick smiled shyly. 

“I think the table might be easier when opening this…” Pete said cryptically, carrying the box to the table for Patrick.

When Patrick pulled back the flaps from the box, he broke out in a wide grin.

Inside was one of the largest roundest pumpkins Patrick had ever seen.

“Do you like it?” Pete asked hesitantly.

“Yes, very much. I haven’t had one of these since…” Patrick’s voice trailed off, remembering all the Halloweens he had shared with Ian, handing out candy to the neighborhood kids.

Ian used to love to sit on the porch with Patrick, hot chocolate in a Thermos between them on the wooden swing, commenting on any costume that caught his eye.

“Patrick, are you feeling okay? Thought I lost you there for a minute…”

Patrick shook his head slightly bringing him back to the lodge and Pete.

“I thought we could carve it together, make something really scary?” Pete asked, a hint of trepidation in his voice.

Patrick smiled. “Sounds like a lot of fun. We can watch a Halloween movie too if you’d like.”

“Got Nightmare before Christmas?” Pete said.

“Of course! Tim Burton is a genius.”

“Then we’re golden!”

Patrick’s smile widened as he watched Pete excitedly pull the pumpkin from the box, placing it on the table.

Perhaps Pete could be right, in more ways than he realizes.

**********************************************

After a very mature game of rock, paper, scissors decided who would do the honors (Patrick won 3 out of 5) , Patrick cut open the pumpkin.

They placed trash bags under the pumpkin for the pumpkin guts, but Patrick insisted on placing the seeds in a mason jar in order to roast them later for a snack.

“Perhaps I could share them with you next time I fly in?” Pete hinted, bumping his hip into Patrick’s, which caused a bit of excitement in Patrick’s pants.

Down, Boy.

“Maybe,” Patrick replied teasingly.

Once they had cleared all the guts and seeds from the pumpkin (while managing to brush their hands together as many times as they could), Pete and Patrick couldn’t agree on what face to carve into the pumpkin.

“But I BROUGHT the pumpkin!” Pete sulked.

“Yeah, FOR ME,” Patrick sang in reply.

Pete’s hands hovered above the pumpkin a moment before he turned his whole body to face Patrick.

“Do that again.”

“What, argue with you?” 

Patrick was confused as to what Pete was asking.

“No. Sing.”

Patrick quickly turned and went to the fridge, pulling out two sodas.

“Here - I’m sure you’re thirsty.”

Pete took the sodas from Patrick, set them on the table, and loosely held Patrick’s hands.

“Please, ‘Trick?” Pete pleaded softly.

Patrick sighed deeply, closed his eyes, and began to sing.

My dearest friend,  
If you don't mind  
I'd like to join you by your side  
Where we could gaze into the stars  
And sit together now and forever  
For it is plain as anyone could see  
We're simply meant to be.

Immediately when the song ended, Patrick felt a soft pair of lips pressed to his. 

He opened his eyes and found himself lost in the depths of Pete’s mesmerizing gaze.

Patrick stared back at him. 

In those eyes Patrick could see Pete was waiting,hoping,praying Patrick wouldn’t reject him.

In that second, Patrick decided.

Closing his eyes once again, he tentatively placed his hands on Pete’s shoulders and opened his mouth the tiniest bit, allowing Pete’s timid tongue the opportunity to enter.

Pete gently placed his hands on Patrick’s hips, resisting the urge to pull the other man to him. 

They stood by the kitchen table, kissing slow and gentle. 

Pete pulled back first, opening his eyes and giving Patrick a smile so big, it seemed as if he had lost half his face behind his teeth.

“Let’s carve that pumpkin,” he whispered after placing a last peck on Patrick’s lips.

Patrick could only nod and blush.

*************************************************

Pete and Patrick decided on a basic triangle and jagged mouth design, so they could hurry and watch the movie.

Once the pumpkin was finished, Pete carried it into the great room and placed it on the large mantle.

Patrick hit the remote button, and the familiar opening music of the holiday classic poured through the speakers.

Pete looked at Patrick, who was sitting in the middle of the couch, blanket draped over his legs.

Patrick could almost read his thoughts - his shifting feet and unsure stance gave away his inability to decide where to sit.

So Patrick decided for him.

He lifted the corner of the blanket up, a gesture of consent that caused Pete to bound onto the couch and under the blanket like a hyperactive puppy.

The last thing he felt before being caught up in the movie was Pete’s thigh pressed firmly to his, pinkies linked on Patrick’s leg.

*************************************

Before they knew it, the movie was over and Pete had to leave for his flight back to Anchorage.

Patrick smiled shyly at Pete as he put his coat on, blushing at the fact that Pete “didn’t want his ‘Trick to catch cold.”

They shared a chaste kiss at the door.

Pete patted his pocket.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot! I got you something else too.”

“Pete, you didn’t have to do that…” 

Pete handed Patrick a small orange bag tied with a black ribbon.

Patrick opened the bag and peered inside.

Patrick looked at Pete, a questioning look on his face.

“But how did you -”

“I have my sources. See you next week, Trick.”

Pete blew Patrick a kiss before turning around and swaggering to the float plane.

“Thank You! See you then!”

Patrick couldn’t help but grin down into the bag.

Inside was one of his favorite candies - cantaloupe flavored Hi-Chews.

ONLY the cantaloupe flavored Hi-Chews.

Patrick waved as Pete took off.

For the first time in three years, he had something worth looking forward to.

****************************************

Patrick made the sweet candy last the entire week Pete was gone.

Pete’s kisses, Patrick had discovered for himself, were even sweeter.

****************************************

“What is up with you today? You can’t stop smiling.” Aaron quizzed Patrick - Seth apparently had a cold and was on bed rest.

“Oh, nothing, same old same old here at Wintertide.”

Aaron looked off camera for a moment, then reappeared, eyes wide.

“Seth seems to think that perhaps you got laid?” Aaron said, a smirk playing on his lips.

Patrick sputtered. 

“What-what do you mean? I’d never - I mean it’s too soon, that’s to say, we just met, but he did bring me a pumpkin and my favorite candy, which, by the way, thanks for that..”

Aaron sat and stared at Patrick, left eyebrow raised to his hairline.

A deep pink blush began appearing on Patrick’s cheeks..

“MaybehekissedmeandIkissedhimbackalittle…” Patrick whispered quickly.

“WHAT! 

Patrick heard a hoarse voice in the background getting closer to the screen. 

All of the sudden Aaron was flailing towards the floor after being pushed out of his seat.

Seth appeared on the screen, voice almost nonexistent. 

“Patrick Stump, are you holding out on us? We’ve waited for this moment for years and you’re skimping on the details? Spill, man, spill!” 

“I sang to him after we carved the pumpkin and the next thing I knew we were kissing next to a pile of pumpkin seeds and guts in front of Lennie.”

“Who’s Lennie?” Aaron croaked from the floor.

Seth gave Aaron a small kick in the leg.

Aaron yelped loudly.

“The cactus Pete gave him. Keep up, Aaron!”

Seth smiled widely at Patrick before coughing loudly.

“We’re both so happy for you Patrick. You look happier, almost glowing!”

Patrick rolled his eyes. 

“That’s just my stupid Irish heritage making me shine like a stoplight when I’m embarrassed. Look, I don’t want you getting your hopes up; I don’t know if this will go anywhere - it was just a kiss.”

“Just be careful with him,” Seth advised.

Aaron popped his head back into view. “Just try to keep an open mind towards anything that pops up, okay Patrick?” Aaron said with a leer.

Patrick only shook his head, waved, and ended the call.

************************************************

It was the first November supply drop, and Patrick had lost track of the time while making pumpkin squares, a surprise for Pete.

He was startled out of his thoughts (Were two batches going to be enough?) by a knock on the back door. 

Patrick opened it to discover a soaked, grinning Pete dripping in the mudroom leading to the kitchen.

“Hello, ‘Trick,” Pete said, leaning into Patrick, swiping a stray dollop of whipped cream off Patrick’s nose. “Nice apron.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” 

The apron had just cleared Patrick’s head when he froze, watching as the finger disappeared slowly into Pete’s mouth.

Pete closed his eyes, relishing the sweet creamy taste, removing it even slower, a smouldering look adorning his face.

Pete was heart-stoppingly breathtaking.

His hair was sending rivulets of water down the sides of his sharp cheekbones and into the valley created by his collarbone, collecting there in pools that Patrick wished he could drown in.

His clothes were drenched, causing his shirt to cling to his abs; his jeans obscenely moulding around his member.

Patrick knew he should have opted for sweatpants today.

“Tastes good. What’cha making?” Pete asked innocently.

“You’re wet.” were the only words Patrick’s brain could supply to his lips.

Pete laughed loudly, gesturing down to his clothes. 

“Guess I should’ve had someone waiting on the dock for me to point out the ice patch I slipped on. Went straight into the lake.”

“I’m sure it was a very graceful plunge. Sorry I missed it.” Patrick teased, tossing the apron on the counter.

Their shared laughter died out as Pete reached for Patrick’s face, pulling it in gently to his own, stopping just short of touching Patrick’s lips.

“Hi,” Pete whispered softly before kissing Patrick. 

He tasted just the same as Patrick remembered.

“Hi yourself,” Patrick replied. He looked down between them. “You need to get out of those wet clothes before you catch cold.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Patrick Stump?” Pete whispered with a wink.

“Oh, you’ll know when I seduce you, Pete Wentz,” Patrick replied before sashaying away.

“Follow me if you want some dry clothes,” Patrick threw over his shoulder before entering his bedroom.

He could hear Pete’s hurried footsteps following him.

Patrick opened the dresser drawers and pulled out sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

“You can take your....clothes...off…” Patrick trailed off as he pointed towards the en suite bathroom.

It was a superfluous gesture, apparently.

Pete stood in front of him, chest bare, jeans unbuttoned and unzipped. 

Pete was stunning, devastatingly incredibly gorgeous.

Patrick swallowed hard as his eyes took in Pete’s torso.

His collarbones were everything Patrick had dreamed of, and more. 

He had a tattoo that ran just under the collarbone, an unending line of thorns that Patrick wanted to trace with his tongue. 

His arms were adorned with tattoos; he could make out Jack Skellington on Pete's right bicep among the other ink.

Pete had little chest hair, and small, dark nipples hardened into tight nubs from the freezing water of the lake.

His abs were taut and slightly sculpted.

Patrick’s eyes wandered farther down, elated to finally see in full the tattoo between Pete’s navel and his crotch: a skull inside a heart inside a bat.

Patrick wanted to place slow wet kisses all over this man.

His cock was definitely on board with this plan.

His heart, however, begged him to be careful.

He glanced quickly at Lennie and Ian’s picture on the nightstand.

Patrick shoved the clothes towards Pete, ran from the room and quickly shut the door behind him.

He fled into the bathroom down the hall, breathing heavily, trying his best not to hyperventilate.

What was wrong with him?

Pete was drop-dead sexy, and would have willingly participated in a session of “aggressive cuddling” if Patrick hadn’t broken the land speed record of a Honey Badger to exit the room. 

Patrick squeezed his painfully erect cock, trying to think of anything and everything unsexy.

Grandmas in bikinis. Baseball statistics. Remembering pi down to 14 decimal places. How was a raven like a writing desk?

Pete laid out underneath him, body arching up into his, tongue darting out to moisten his slightly chapped lips…

Where the hell did that come from? Patrick was seriously beginning to question which part of his body was in charge of his libido.

Suddenly, he heard Pete knock on the bathroom door.

“Patrick, are you all right?”

Patrick hoped like Hell he could face Pete without staying a constant shade of crimson and sporting a tent in his pants.

“Coming,” he managed to croak out after banging his head lightly against the wall.

How was this his life?

What was he going to do?

A now somewhat conflicted Patrick opened the door to face this mildly disturbing yet sexually charged atmosphere created by, of all things, a fall in an ice-cold lake.

What are the odds?

***************************************************

Patrick entered the kitchen quietly, where he found Pete at the counter examining the pumpkin squares he had been baking earlier.

“They were supposed to be a surprise for you…” Patrick said quietly.

Pete turned around and leaned back against the counter slowly, as if trying not to startle a frightened colt.

“They smell delicious - I can’t wait to try one.”

“It’s my Mother’s recipe - I used the pumpkin you brought me to make them.”

Pete gave Patrick a small smile.

“I’m not sure if this technically counts as regifting,” Pete chuckled.

Patrick barked out a small laugh, then bit into his bottom lip.

An action which pulled Pete’s gaze to his mouth.

Pete’s lust-filled eyes slowly raised up to meet Patrick’s, part scrutiny, part provocation. 

Faster than a heartbeat Patrick rushed across the room, wrapping his arms around Pete’s neck and pulling him down into a hot, messy, dirty kiss.

And thankfully, Pete was kissing him back with as much, if not more, enthusiasm.

Their kisses turned frenzied, pent up restlessness and desire finally allowed to roam freely between their mouths.

Patrick suddenly dropped to his knees, an overwhelming need to get his mouth on Pete’s skullheartbat tattoo taking precedence over any other thoughts or actions.

He raised the hem of Pete’s sweatshirt, open mouth finally tasting Pete. 

He tasted just like Patrick knew he would - like hedonism, in every sense of the word.

Patrick mapped the tattoo as well as Pete’s hip bones with a zealous tongue and sloppy kisses.

He stopped to nip and suck at his skin every so often, leaving lingering warnings to any who dared pilfer what was now his:

FUCK OFF, HE’S MINE.

“Patrick, Patrick please…” Pete begged from above him. Patrick looked innocently up at Pete through hooded eyes.

“If you don’t do something sexual to my dick in the next sixty seconds I’m going to - “AH, FUCK!”

Pete’s threat was interrupted by Patrick yanking Pete’s sweats down past his ass and immediately sliding his tongue slowly from the root to the tip of his cock.

Patrick smiled up at Pete as he kissed the dark red crown, flicking his tongue out to taste the precum that sat like a pearl on top of his thick member.

Pete’s eyes grew soft. “You are so fucking sexy…” he whispered as he stroked Patrick’s bearded jaw.

Patrick chose that moment to enshroud all of Pete with his mouth, causing Pete’s head to bang against the upper cabinets.

After testing the weight of Pete on his tongue, Patrick pulled off and grinned up at Pete. 

“Careful,” he warned, lazely stroking Pete’s dick. “You don’t want to pay for damages incurred…”

“I’ll show you what damages really are you little…” but whatever Pete was going to say next was swallowed by the beautiful acrobatic moves Patrick’s tongue was currently performing up and down his penis. 

Patrick pulled off, spat on his hand and began to stroke Pete faster. 

He looked up, biting his lip.

“Come for me, Pete. I want to hear how loud you can be…” Patrick said before placing his mouth once again around Pete.

Pete buried his hands in Patrick’s hair and came hard and thick down Patrick’s throat, shouting Patrick’s name so loud it echoed throughout the lodge.

Patrick swallowed and barely had time to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand before he was hauled to his feet.

“Turnabout’s fair play,” Pete growled while making short work of the button and zipper on Patrick’s jeans. 

Pete tried to wiggle his hand down into Patrick’s pants, but quickly became frustrated.

“Fuck it,” Pete said before giving Patrick a filthy kiss and sinking to his knees, yanking Patrick’s pants down around his thighs and swallowing him whole.

The things that man could do with his hands and tongue had to be illegal in several states.

When Patrick felt Pete’s fingertip gently circling his entrance, Patrick finally understood what Carole King had been going on about in the song, “I Feel The Earth Move.” 

He hadn’t felt so wanted, so desired, since, since…

Since Ian.

Patrick came quickly, Pete’s mouth on his cock, whispering Pete’s name over and over like a soft serenade.

*******************************

Afterwards, Pete straightened them both up and dragged Patrick to the couch to cuddle. 

Pete cradled Patrick in his arms, playing with his fingers and occasionally kissing the crown of Patrick’s head.

Patrick felt rattled.

A tangled ball of emotions took up residence inside him, splitting their time between his head and his heart. 

Patrick felt dazed by the fierce attraction he had to Pete, embarrassed by his whorish behavior, and bewildered that a man that looked like Pete would find him sexy.

But most of all, he was unnerved to find he didn't feel guilty like he thought he would after his first sexual encounter after Ian.

Patrick felt himself tremble, scared to explore any further into his psyche.

“Sshh, Patrick, I’ve got you,” Pete said as he tightened his arms around Patrick after covering them with a blanket.

Patrick drifted off to sleep, refusing to allow himself to examine more closely the meaning of Pete’s words.

******************************************************

Patrick was roused from his slumber by Pete’s lips gently pressed to his forehead.

“I have to leave now, ‘Trick.” Pete whispered. “Stay here and rest.”

Patrick gave Pete a lazy nod and burrowed further down into the blanket over him.

Pete chuckled, fondness in its tone.

“Sweet Dreams, ‘Trick.”

**********************************************************

Patrick woke up the next day curled up on the couch, glasses gently laid on the coffee table.

Beside it Patrick could barely make out a blur of paper with words on it.

He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and quickly donned his glasses, his heart in his throat as he picked up the paper to read the message.

‘Trick,

My words aren’t nearly good enough.

Call me if you have the perfect word to describe last night.

X, Pete

Under Pete’s name was a phone number - seven digits Patrick was sure any guy or girl would give their right arm to have.

Patrick tried to rationalize his actions last night, acting as a referee between his elated brain and his nonplussed heart.

After a few minutes of deliberation, he turned away from the paper and went into the en suite bathroom to shower. 

While drying off Patrick brushed his teeth, examining more closely the silvery scars that peppered his body, like the freckles that used to come out on his pale skin under the summer sun.

Every single one justified, each a symbol of contrition, while Ian -

Patrick put the brakes on that train of thought. He didn’t want to go there.

Not after last night.

Not after Pete.

Patrick gazed at his own reflection in the mirror, lost in introspection.

As soon as a few weeks ago, Patrick missed Ian so badly the anguish often hacked its way into his heart, head. and stomach.

However, now that he had met Pete, he was surprised to discover his sorrow had somewhat abated

He turned from the mirror, went into the bedroom and got dressed.

***********************************************************

As he went about his daily duties, Patrick tried hard to understand the niggling lack of guilt he felt concerning his indiscretion.

He picked at his lunch and skipped dinner, deciding to retire much earlier than usual.

As he lay in bed, Patrick tried to disentangle his love for Ian from his newfound...esteem? fondness? lust? for Pete. 

Pete was...new. Shiny. Effervescent. Refreshing.

Pete was nothing like Ian.

Ian had been tall, pale, blonde with piercing blue eyes.

Pete was short (though taller than Patrick), dark-complected, with soft black curly hair and warm, laughing whiskey-colored eyes.

Ian loved Elvis Costello and Bowie.

Pete enjoyed Def Leppard and Metallica.

Ian was a fantastic, unselfish lover.

From what experience he’d had, so was Pete.

True, Pete wasn’t Ian, but he was warm and funny and kind.

Patrick stared at Ian’s picture, bathed in the moonlight.

Patrick spent several hours brokering an accord between his head and his heart.

When he was reasonably certain he could live with his decision, he began to speak softly.

‘Ian, I’ve decided to try to move on. Nothing has to happen if I don’t want it to, and when and if I’m ready to take things beyond a casual level I hope you’ll understand. Know that I will always love you.’

He kissed Ian’s picture before gently tucking it into the nightstand drawer.

Patrick fell into a peaceful slumber at 3:00 A..M., hoping that Ian would be proud of him.

********************************************

Patrick woke up the next day to a fresh blanket of snow on the ground.

He was shivering under the covers - he had forgotten to turn up the thermostat before he went to bed.

Patrick grabbed his glasses and dashed from the bedroom to the great room, hopping from foot to foot while he adjusted the heat setting.

On his way back to his warm bed, Patrick’s eyes landed on the slip of paper still on the coffee table.

He made a slight detour and grabbed Pete’s note, dashed down the hall and burrowed down into the warm covers.

He stuck his arm out to grab his phone.

The clock on his IPhone read two p.m.; he could probably reach Pete.

But what to say?

How could Patrick reply to such a charming note?

Patrick grinned a smug grin when he finally dialed Pete’s number and typed out his text.

‘Trick: empyreal 

Pete replied almost immediately.

Pete: perfect; however, I would have gone with ‘supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’

Patrick smiled to himself, once again thoroughly charmed.

‘Trick: all the REAL words in the English Language, and you chose to quote Mary Poppins?

Pete: 150 million worldwide Disney fans can’t be wrong.

Patrick’s grin grew wider.

‘Trick: Yes, I know I always like to describe my sexual experiences using words sung in children’s movies by animated gypsies.

Patrick watched the typing bubbles start and stop at least five times.

Pete: You can tell me to fuck off, but is it too soon to say I miss you?

Patrick’s breath caught in his throat. For a split-second he panicked, then a smirk appeared.

‘Trick: Made that ‘big’ of an impression on you, did I?

‘Trick: And I miss you, too.

Pete: Shit. You’ve awoken the anaconda, and I have an appointment in ten minutes.

‘Trick: Anaconda, huh?

Pete: You know it, Babe ;)

Trick: So I can legitimately say that next supply drop you’re bringing me Snakes On A Plane? ;)

Pete: You’re gonna be the death of me, ‘Trick. Talk to you later?

‘Trick: If you’re lucky…

Pete: Trying to get there… ;)

Patrick put his phone back on the dresser, burrowed further down into the covers, and proceeded to squeal like a teenager after getting a call from their biggest crush.

‘Babe,’ he thought. ‘Pete called me Babe…’

****************************************

Pete and Patrick traded flirtatious texts for the next few days. In between, they talked about Pete’s dog Hemmy, who apparently was the true king of the Wentz household. 

Pete tried to talk Patrick into a Facetime session so he could meet Hemmy, but Patrick just changed the subject quickly.

He wasn’t ready to be that familiar with Pete’s life yet.

He was afraid that Pete would ask questions in return, and he wasn't ready to give answers.

It would allow Pete too close to his tender,healing heart.

***************************************************

Patrick emailed Seth and Aaron the weekly report concerning Wintertide the night before Pete’s visit.

He was afraid of the questions and well-meaning advice they would bombard him with once they saw his flushed face.

Mr. Sandman took a hard pass regarding Wintertide that night.

*********************************************

Patrick’s life drastically changed over the course of the next six weeks.

At first, he and Pete began exchanging increasingly flirty and intimate texts and emails between supply drops.

Then Pete began to call Patrick every day, if only to check in and say he missed him.

Patrick began to eagerly anticipate each of Pete’s visits, making sure he took extra time with his hair and clothes.

He had even started to wear CK Eternity - a cologne that Pete had mentioned once, causing Pete to bury his face in Patrick’s neck and hug him tightly every time he greeted Patrick on the dock.

They had the loading and unloading of supplies down to an exact science, counting down the seconds until they could fall down on the couch, entwined in each other.

The visits passed too quickly; their time was spent enjoying each other’s company to the fullest through frotting, handjobs, and blowjobs.

They learned each other’s sensitive spots, filing them away in their memory to make their future efforts more satisfying for the other.

Afterwards, they would lie under the blanket on the couch, whispering about their week, playful banter exchanged while exploring with their fingers and mouths the skin they oftentimes would uncover in their frenzied activity.

Pete would stay until the last second, kissing Patrick breathless at the door before grinning widely and bounding down the path to the dock.

Every time Pete’s plane grew smaller on the horizon, Patrick felt increasingly forlorn.

***********************************************************

The status report emails became more prevalent than Facetime with Seth and Aaron.

They said they understood; they were preparing for the holidays with their families.

Patrick was relieved they didn’t press the subject.

He couldn’t possibly admit to them that he had fallen in love with Pete.

He could barely own up to it to himself.

Just the thought of loving Pete had Patrick on tenterhooks.

Deep down, he hoped like hell Pete cared for him, too.

*********************************************

The snow had begun to fall before sunrise on December 23rd.  
Patrick was down at the dock fifteen minutes early, pulling his beanie further over his ears before rubbing his mittened hands on his arms and thighs. 

Pete had seen him in these jeans several times before, but Patrick was currently stuck with a wardrobe that was in dire need of an urgent au courant makeover.

The snow began to fall harder ten minutes later, and Patrick was relieved to see Pete’s plane on the horizon.

Patrick waved enthusiastically as Pete pulled parallel to the dock and shut off the engine.

He was already securing the dock ropes to the rear of the plane when Pete hopped out, grinning and doing the same to the front.

“Hi,” Pete said, smile widening.

“Hey,” Patrick replied. “I guess we should hurry and get the supplies in. You know. Because of the snow.”

“Yeah. The snow.” Pete said knowingly.

They worked together quickly to empty the cargo onto the electric cart, hands brushing on more than one occasion, heightening the shared anticipation and excitement of what would happen once they were inside the lodge.

They shrugged out of their beanies, coats and boots in the mudroom before unpacking and putting away the supplies.

Patrick was just putting the last of the dry goods in the pantry when he heard the door gently shut, causing the room to go dark. There was still light coming in from under the door, imitating the ambience of candlelight.

He felt Pete press up firmly along his entire body, cock already hard, pressing into the crack of Patrick’s ass.

Pete nosed along the side of Patrick’s neck while gently grabbing both of the other man’s wrists in his hands, bringing them slowly above his head.

Pete leaned further into an aroused Patrick, who was no longer surprised by the sway Pete held over his body.

“Fuck, ‘Trick.” He whispered into Patrick’s ear. “You give me feelings I just can’t put into words.”

Patrick tilted his head back to lie on Pete’s shoulder, turning to face the other man, biting his lush lower lip; an invitation to a kiss, perhaps more.

“Then show me,” Patrick said breathlessly, eager to have Pete’s mouthhandsbody on his.

“Babe,” Pete moaned before capturing Patrick’s lips in a searing kiss. Mouths open, tongues fighting to lead the dance they had only just begun.

Pete pressed his body even closer to Patrick and began to rotate his hips maddingly against Patrick’s ass.

Patrick broke the kiss and licked his swollen lips. “Pete,” he whimpered, pressing his hips back against Pete, craving the satisfaction that only Pete could offer him.

“I’ve got you,” Pete murmured as he lowered his hands to Patrick’s jeans, one arm tightly wrapped around Patrick’s waist, the other hand working over his now-throbbing clothed cock.

Patrick lowered his hands to the back of Pete’s head, holding on for dear life, afraid of being lost forever in the chaos of emotions they were creating together.

“‘Can you feel it, Patrick?” Pete breathed into his lover’s ear. “Right now, this very minute, my heart is beating your name.”

His orgasm hit him like a freight train, Pete’s name panting from his lips as his lover followed close behind.

Patrick was glad there wasn’t much light in the room.

As Pete was kissing his neck, bringing him down from his blissful state, a single tear trickled down Patrick’s cheek.

Pete gently slid them to the floor, cradling Patrick in his arms from behind.

For a moment, all that could be heard was the hum of the fridge.

“We’ve GOT to stop having sex around the food. It really is unsanitary.”

A series of giggles flew from Patrick’s mouth, breaking the silence before Pete’s hearty chuckles joined in.

***************************************

Both still laughing, Patrick threw open the pantry door and dragged Pete into the en suite bathroom.

Once there, Pete gently removed Patrick’s glasses and placed them on the counter before they undressed each other, waiting for the water to heat up.

The lovers lost track of time in the shower, clinging onto each other, tasting uncovered skin, gently tracing lazy patterns along collarbones, backs, and hips.

They exchanged lazy hand jobs - Pete capturing Patrick’s small gasps in his mouth as he came, Pete following seconds later.

They got out of the shower and kissed their way into the bedroom. 

Patrick reluctantly pulled away from Pete, who was watching him with lust-filled eyes.

He winked at Pete as he gathered clothes for them to put on, hopefully to be removed in the near future.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Patrick felt wanton and desired.

Patrick gave Pete a big smile after they were dressed (Pete opting to go shirtless, much to Patrick’s delight).

“C’mon, let’s go grab some food - I’m starving!”

Patrick held out his hand, Pete gently capturing it and weaving Patrick’s fingers with his own.

“Lead the way, Babe…”

**********************************************

They heated up the pizza that Pete had brought with him, then hopped back in bed, food between them, sodas on the nightstands.

“Can we play 20 questions? Pete asked around a mouthful of gooey cheese.

“Don’t you know you shouldn’t talk with your mouth full?” Patrick replied condescendingly.

Pete snarled at him, causing some of the cheese to drip out of his mouth back into the pizza box.

“That’s attractive,” Patrick teased.

Pete swallowed his mouthful of cheesy goodness. “Well? Questions?”

Patrick took a dainty bite from his slice of pizza and chewed thoughtfully.

“Favorite fast food?”

Pete sat up straighter.

“Wait, wait wait. I basically give you the green light to ask me ANY question you want to know about me, and the first thing you ask is my food preferences?”

Patrick shrugged, a tiny smile gracing his lips. “Gotta start somewhere.”

Pete picked a large mushroom off his slice and chewed it, swallowing slowly, mesmerizing Patrick with the movement of his Adam's apple.

“Easy,” Pete replied. “Pizza is everything.”

“Really?” Patrick queried, voice laced with skepticism.

“Yup,” Pete grinned. “Favorite restaurant.”

“Easy - The Himalayan in Naples, Illinois. They serve The Best shrimp vindaloo, not to mention the orgasmic vegetable momo.”

Pete licked his lips and cocked his head. 

“Orgasmic, huh? Guess I’ll have to try it myself someday.”

Patrick thought for a moment. “You’re from Chicago?”

“Um-hum, Wilmette born and raised, then spent some time in the Caribbean.”

“You’re kidding me - I’ve lived in Evanston all my life!”

Pete laughed. “Just think, I had to travel 3,575 miles to meet a new friend who used to live a mere 3.3 miles away!”

Patrick’s heart stopped for a moment; it had been decimated by one small word.

Friend.

Patrick’s feelings weren’t reciprocated.

Fuck.

He was so stupid, a complete an utter dumbass loser. 

He had, after much thought, taken a chance on winning Pete’s acceptance, companionship, and love.

Unfortunately for him, he had incorrectly read the situation.

“Friend,” Patrick said quietly to himself, eyes fixed on the food in front of him.

He felt Pete’s hand gently lift his chin, ducking to peer into Patrick’s eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Patrick swallowed his disappointment and sorrow and put on a stoic face.

“Favorite Album?” he asked, trying to change the subject, offering Pete a hollow smile.

Pete studied Patrick thoughtfully for a moment.

“Metallica - Black Album.”

“My turn,” Pete said quickly. “Why are you upset?”

Patrick turned his head, unwilling to watch the understandable antipathy which would soon mar Pete’s handsome face.

He began to speak, his voice flat.

“If you just want to be friends, that’s fine. Fuck buddies is all right with me, too. I have a mirror and I’m not blind. I’m lucky you even gave me the time of day. I know you must have hundreds of tall, buff, sexy people lined up to show you all kinds of impressive tricks they can perform between the sheets.”

His answer was an uncomfortable stillness to the room; a deafening silence.

Suddenly the pizza box was thrown violently from the bed, followed by the tshirt Pete had quickly tugged off of Patrick’s body.

Before he could react he was lowered to the bed, narrow hips straddling his thighs, calloused hands and strong tattoed arms holding Pete above him.

Patrick’s heart was racing as fiery brown eyes and a pair of full lips hovered millimeters above his own, as if Pete was about to tell him the secrets of the universe. 

Patrick could feel their heavy breaths colliding in that infinitesimal chasm which existed between them.

“It’s my turn to ask a question,” Pete said, the fury in his voice barely restrained.

“What the fuck, Patrick? Are you serious? Can you not see yourself? Your hair is the color of summer wheat at sunset. Sometimes I feel as if I’m drowning in your riptide eyes. Your lips - ‘Trick, your lips should be designated as one of the seven wonders of the world. Your body is solid; it is one of the very few fucking places on this earth where I feel totally at peace.”

“Friend - definitely. Fuck Buddy - not ideal, but I’ll take it if it’s my only option. All I know is that you, Patrick Stump, have found a way to covertly slip under my skin, invade my blood, and are well on your way to seizing my heart.”

Pete remained completely still, his eyes roaming Patrick’s face, searching for even a tiny inkling of what the other man was thinking and/or feeling.

“I...I…” At that moment, Patrick couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, couldn’t communicate.

So he just let his body take over.

Kinesics kicked in, banishing Patrick’s emotions from his mind, forbidding them from returning until after his voracious appetite for Pete had been satisfied.

*****************************************

For Patrick, their physical union was like a cinematic masterpiece with Pete in the director’s chair. 

The scene unfolded on the exposed stage of Patrick’s bed. 

The acting consisted of Pete’s handsome face and virile body on full display, his lips worshipping pale skin, his fingers gently touchingstrokingpressingopening.

The soundtrack was the seemingly endless melody of Pete’s whispers and murmurs of affection. 

The grand finale was achieved when their bodies united and worked towards a fulfilling climax, guiding the lovers to one shared goal: fulfillment.

For Pete, it was the consummation of his feelings for Patrick.

For Patrick, however, it was the euphoria he felt at the realization he could unconditionally love Pete Wentz.

************************************************************

Patrick came back to reality, still in a blissful fog.

He was snuggled up under Pete’s arm, head on his chest listening to the quiet, steady beat of the heart beneath his ear.

Patrick placed a light kiss on Pete’s chest before burrowing closer to his lover.

Pete’s hand lightly stroked his back in a soothing rhythm and placed a kiss on the top of Patrick’s head.

“I’ve got you,” Pete whispered to Patrick.

The last thing he heard before he drifted off to sleep, was Pete softly saying, “I can’t believe how hard I’ve fallen for you.”

***********************************************************

Patrick awoke the next day to a warm mouth wrapped around his cock and a gentle finger probing at his entrance.

He gently wove his fingers in Pete’s hair and lifted his head. 

Pete looked so debauched, so beautiful; swollen lips framing the top half of his dick, calloused hand slowly jacking the base.

He slowly pulled off Patrick with a “pop” and offered Patrick a purely sinful grin.

“Good morning, Beautiful. I had to think of a way to wake you up - I was getting lonely.”

Patrick pouted. 

“Looks like you started without me.”

“Yeah,” Pete leered, “But now you’re awake I can finish.”

Pete playfully nipped at Patrick’s inner thighs.

“So you like having an audience?” Patrick teased.

Pete stared at Patrick for a moment before sitting back on his heels and placing his hands on his head.

HIs eyes never left Patrick’s as his right hand began its slow descent down his body, slowly passing all of Patrick’s favorite places.

His first stop was his tongue, which applied a slow, wide, wet lick from the tip of his middle finger to the bottom of his palm.

Patrick’s hard member twitched in interest.

The hand turned and slid down Pete’s neck, stretching the column of his neck, clearly swallowing hard for Patrick’s benefit.

‘Shit.’ thought Patrick. ‘He knows I have a thing for his adam’s apple, and he’s going to exploit it every chance he gets.’

Pete’s collarbone was grazed on the way down to Pete’s tight dark nipple, allowing Pete to play with it.

“Fun fact,” Pete whispered, voice dripping with salacity, “I used to have not only my nipple pierced, but my cock as well. Does that turn you on, Patrick?”

Patrick’s eyes tried to flick down to Pete’s manhood, but the other man caught and held his eyes.

Pete’s laugh was absolutely obscene.

His right hand continued its slow journey, over the flat planes of his abdomen reaching the tattoo between his navel and crotch.

“It’s called a bartskull,” Pete said, absently tracing the lines of the tattoo. “I got it when I was young. Hurt like hell. Do you like it, Patrick?”

Patrick nodded his head, trying to stave off the thundering orgasm threatening to overcome him at any moment.

Pete smiled as his right hand finally, FINALLY wrapped around his thick member, rubbing the tip with his finger and bringing it up to Patrick’s mouth.

He painted Patrick’s sinful bottom lip with his precum.

“Now that I have your attention, instead of sucking your cock, I think I’m going to fuck you.”

“Does that sound good to you?”

Patrick squeaked out a yes, rock hard penis begging for something, anything sexual to take place immediately.

Pete leisurely climbed off the bed and picked up his jeans, retrieving a condom from the pocket.

He grabbed Patrick's lube off the nightstand, and silently lay down on his back beside Patrick.

‘What the fuck?’ Patrick thought, his pressing unrealized orgasm making this turn of events even more frustrating.

“I think it’s my turn to be the spectator.” Pete sing-songed.

“I’d like to get off sometime in the next ten minutes, Patrick. Can you help me out here?” Pete provoked.

Patrick sat up, through with this foreplay bullshit.

He straddled Pete’s thighs and began stroking their dicks back to full hardness.

“I’m going to ride you so hard you’ll think your pelvis has split in two,” Patrick spat out while hurriedly wrapping Pete’s cock.

“Promises, promises,” Pete teased.

Patrick placed Pete at his entrance, and took great pleasure in the shock and ecstasy on Pete’s face when he took his entire cock in one continuous downward push of his hips.

Pete grabbed Patrick’s hip with one hand, placing increasingly darkening fingerprints there as he and Patrick moved as one, Patrick finally finding the right angle to rub Pete’s thick penis against his prostate repeatedly, denying himself his orgasm until Pete came first.

Then Pete did something totally out of left field.

He stroked Patrick quickly with his right hand, then took his right hand off Patrick’s hip and trailed it around to Patrick’s ass, eventually rubbing his fingertip on the sensitive skin of his anus.

Patrick’s orgasm felt like a release of all the pent up anger, frustration, and pain he had amassed over the last three years. 

He felt Pete’s prick pulse deep inside him, his body accepting the hard thrusts which accompanied the feeling of being filled.

Patrick pulled himself off of Pete, removed the condom and threw it into the trash before lying on his side facing Pete.

Patrick knitted their fingers together loosely.

”You don’t fight fair,” Patrick said, a mock pout on his face.

“I never claimed to.” Pete replied smugly.

********************************************

After an hour of slow kisses and soft touches, the lovers decided to forego a shower, choosing instead to clean off with wet towels, don their boxers and stay in bed all day.

Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick. 

“Hop back in bed - I’ll go get us some breakfast from the kitchen and be back in a few minutes.”

Patrick tilted his head up and gave Pete a small peck. “Will you please bring my tea? It’s already brewed on the counter.”

Pete reluctantly let go and grinned.

“Try not to miss me too much, Beautiful.”

Patrick blushed profusely, causing Pete to chuckle as he turned and exited the room.

***********************************************

While Pete was grabbing breakfast, Patrick put on his glasses and climbed back onto the bed before grabbing his laptop from the nightstand.

He was surprised to discover he had several emails in his inbox from Seth.

Patrick immediately put in a Facetime call to his boss/friend.

Seth answered immediately, and Patrick could see worry on the other man’s face.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Is Aaron alright? Are you alright?” Patrick asked quickly.

“It’s Pete.” Seth replied” “He always checks in with us after every Wintertide run, but we’ve heard nothing from him.”

“And what is going on with your hair? Are you styling it differently?”

Patrick bit his lower lip and blushed.

“Well, a heavy snowfall began just as he was about to leave, so we decided that him staying here would be the safest course of action.”

At that moment, Pete popped his head and bare shoulders into Patrick’s frame.

“Sorry about that. I was gonna call and let you know what was going on but I sort of got distracted…”

Patrick slapped Pete lightly on his shoulder, his face turning a bright crimson.

“Which, if it’s okay, I’d like to stay through tomorrow morning. It’s Christmas, after all…”

Seth’s grin widened by the second.

“Of course you can stay! I’m sure Patrick would enjoy the company…”

Patrick tried to signal Seth to shut up, but he was blatantly ignored.

Pete popped a quick kiss to Patrick’s head, placed his bagel on the nightstand, and hopped back into the bed, snuggling down into the covers and opening his phone.

“Well, this is an interesting development,” Seth said, his eyes widening, trying to convey some type of message to Patrick.

Patrick heard Aaron walk into the room Seth was in.

“Did you locate our pilot?”

Seth looked away from the camera and smirked.

“Yup, turns out he’s WITH Patrick.”

Aaron stuck his head into the frame.

“Finally get lucky, Trickster?” Aaron teased, causing Patrick’s blush to go from scarlet to crimson.

“I’ve got to go now - just wanted to check in to report everything is fine.”

“Bye, Patrick, take care.” Seth said, a cautious tone in his voice.

“And be sure to send Pete back in one piece,” Aaron snickered loudly offscreen just before Patrick slammed the laptop shut.

When Patrick dared to look over at Pete, he was grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary.

“I notice you made no promises to them about me returning to Anchorage complete.”

Patrick carefully set his laptop and glasses on the nightstand before moving to hover over Pete.

“True,” Patrick replied huskily.

“However, I never agreed to send you back unmarred…” he whispered before he latched his mouth onto Pete’s collarbone, alternating between biting and sucking on the smooth skin until a mouth-shaped bruise appeared.

“By the time I’m through with you, every inch of your skin will be marked up.”

Pete tangled his hands in his lover’s hair and sighed as he felt Patrick’s mouth move down to his chest, repeating the same process.

“No complaints from me...”

*******************************************************

They stayed in bed enjoying each other until after noon, when Pete insisted they venture out into the snowy Alaskan forest to locate the perfect Christmas tree.

“Why do we need a Christmas tree?” Patrick asked.

Pete rolled his eyes fondly.

“It’s kind of hard to get presents if there’s no tree to put them under…” he sing-songed.

“But I haven’t celebrated Christmas since…” Patrick caught himself just in time.

Pete shot him a questioning look.

“It’s gonna be cold out there - we’d better bundle up.” Patrick said, changing the subject.

Pete opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a curt “yeah.”

*******************************************************

They grabbed the chainsaw from the maintenance shed and set out in the lodge’s all-terrain Jeep to find the perfect tree.

They stopped in the middle of a small glade surrounded by trees of all shapes and sizes.

They started their quest, hand in hand, every now and then stopping to throw handfuls of snow at each other.

Their efforts were temporarily halted, however, when Pete backed Patrick up against the large trunk of a Alaskan yellow cedar and kissed the beautiful smile off his face, hands wandering over each other seeking out patches of bare skin to caress.

The sky was darkening, so they reluctantly let go of each other and continued their search, finally settling on a five foot white spruce.

Pete cut the tree down with the chainsaw, and they hauled it back to the Jeep.

Pete insisted Patrick sing Christmas songs on the way back, so he indulged him with renditions of “The Christmas Song” and “All I Want For Christmas Is You.”

When he was finished, Pete smiled widely.

"I loved it, Babe, especially that last song…”

Patrick smiled down into his scarf.

*******************************************************

They returned to the lodge and decided to place the tree between the fireplace and a large window.

“Oh!” Pete said. “I forgot!” as he suddenly grabbed his keys and headed for the dock in the twilight.

Patrick turned on the outside flood lights so Pete wouldn’t hurt himself on the way back.

He returned a short time later, carrying two large paper sacks and a wide smile on his face.

Pete kissed the tip of Patrick’s nose as he breezed past him into the lodge.

Patrick closed the door and followed Pete to the coffee table, where he had deposited the bags.

“Get ready to be amazed, ‘Trick!” Pete announced.

He picked up the first bag and dumped it carefully on the couch, doing the same to the second.

Patrick stared at Pete, who looked like a puppy waiting for his master’s approval.

“It’s all perfect,” Patrick whispered, Patrick’s fingers ghosting over the lights, tinsel, and various ornaments, some shaped like musical instruments.

Underneath it all Patrick could just make out the tops of two red stockings, both with their names written in Pete’s script in green glitter glue.

Patrick turned and hugged Pete tightly.

“I love it.”

******************************************************

They ate a quick dinner of soup and sandwiches before opening a bottle of wine and tackling the task of decorating the tree.

Pete hung the lights on the tree, while Patrick spread the silver tinsel evenly over the branches.

They hung the ornaments together: Dogs for Pete, musical instruments for Patrick, and plastic balls in various colors.

Finally, Pete used the stepstool to place a silver star on the top of the tree.

When they were finished Patrick sat on the couch while Pete turned off the lights.

It was beautiful.

Patrick had forgotten how magical Christmas could be - gazing at the tree wrapped in your lover’s arms, glancing out at the snow glistening under the winter moon, listening to Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole serenading quietly in the background, enjoying the warmth of a fireplace.

“Oh! Patrick cried. “We almost forgot!”

He untangled himself from Pete’s warm embrace and picked up the stockings, hanging them side by side on the mantle.

Tugging the blanket off the arm of the recliner, he returned to the comfort of being snuggled under Pete’s arm, spreading the blanket over them before nestling into his lover’s side.

“Now it’s perfect,” Patrick whispered.

He felt Pete kiss the top of his head.

“Perfect,” he agreed.

***************************************************

They had gone to bed a little after midnight, both a little tipsy and a lot tired.

Pete spooned Patrick, pulling him tightly back against his chest.

“Merry Christmas, Patrick,” he said as he placed a soft kiss on Patrick’s neck.

“Merry Christmas, Pete,” Patrick replied before drifting off to sleep.

*********************************************************

Patrick awoke a few hours later to the sounds of shouting.

“Help me! Somebody help me! Please! Don’t let them - Help!”

Patrick tried to place his hand on Pete’s arm to gently wake him up, but Pete only jerked away from Patrick.

“Pete,” Patrick said, his voice gentle but firm. 

Pete continued to thrash in bed, face contorted in pain.

“Pete, please wake up. You’re dreaming,” Patrick said louder.

Pete squeezed his eyes tight before sitting straight up in bed, forehead soaked, chest covered in a sheen of sweat. 

“Pete, are you all right?” Patrick asked as he lightly placed his hand on Pete’s shoulder.

Pete laid back down on the bed, covering his eyes with his forearm.

“Nightmare,” he mumbled.

He removed his arm from his face.

“Sing to me? Please?” Pete begged softly.

Patrick smiled softly, gathered Pete in his arms and began to sing:

It’s a little bit funny  
This feeling inside  
I’m not one of those that can easily hide  
I don’t have much money  
But boy if I did  
I’d buy a big house where we both could live  
And you can tell everybody,  
This is your song  
It might be quite simple but  
Now that it’s done  
I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind  
That I put down in words,  
How wonderful life is  
Now you’re in the world.

Patrick heard Pete’s soft steady breathing, glad that he could bring a bit of peace to this wonderful man.

*********************************************

Patrick awoke to the bed being treated like a trampoline.

“Wake up ‘Trick! It’s Christmas!”

Patrick threw his comforter over his head.

“What time IS it?” Patrick groaned.

“Half past nine.”

Patrick groaned louder and burrowed further into the covers.

Pete lifted the edge and peeked in at Patrick.

“Don’t you want to see if Santa came?”

Patrick just shrugged his shoulder.

Pete threw back the comforter and planted his hands on his hips.

“Patrick Stump, if you don’t get out of this bed right now I am never going to give you a blow job again.”

Patrick sat up and slowly opened his eyes.

“You know, Pete,” he said. “You should never use sex as a weapon.”

Pete rolled his eyes. 

“No Pat Benatar references on Christmas, please. C’mon, ‘Trick!”

Patrick begrudgingly allowed Pete to pull him out of bed and into the great room, where he had laid out a buffet of breakfast foods as well as juices.

Underneath the tree lay two presents.

“Let’s eat first,” Pete said, “Then we can unwrap the presents!”

Patrick agreed, and they went about stuffing their faces with eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, jam, and juice.

When they were full, Pete brought the two presents over to the couch, placing Patrick’s on his lap and holding on to the other one.

“You first”, Pete insisted, bouncing in his seat.

Patrick smiled at Pete’s excitement, carefully tearing the paper back to reveal a vinyl record.

“You - you got me the David Bowie Low Vinyl with the CPL1-2030 Black RCA label?” Patrick whispered.

Pete nodded proudly.

Patrick pulled the record carefully from the inner sleeve, revealing the original radio sheet hidden inside.

The record was in perfect condition.

“I don’t know what to say - I love it! Thank you!”

Patrick gently placed the record on the coffee table and leaned in to give Pete a slow, heartfelt kiss.

Pete pulled back and kissed the tip of Patrick’s nose, shaking with excitement.

“My turn!” he cried, picking up the small present on his knee.

Patrick held his breath as Pete quickly unwrapped the small present, revealing a black hinged box.

Pete slowly lifted the lid of the box, revealing a mahogany-encased golden compass, his initials on the top.

“Look inside,” Patrick said softly.

Pete opened the compass and read the inscription he found on the inside of the top.

So you can always find your way back to me.  
Love, Patrick

Pete looked back up at Patrick, eyes full of love, tears threatening to fall at any minute.

“I love it,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Patrick smiled through his own tears.

“I love you too.”

Pete stood up and held out his hand to Patrick, walking backwards while leading him down the hall and into the bedroom. 

Beside the bed, Pete removed Patrick’s tshirt and boxers before laying him out on the bed.

Pete quickly removed his own shirt and boxers before climbing onto the bed and hovering over Patrick.

“Make love to me, Pete”.

Pete nodded before leaning in and slowly kissing Patrick; chastely at first, just enjoying the feeling of their joined lips.

After a few minutes, Patrick gently touched Pete’s lips with the tip of his tongue, causing Pete to moan and open his mouth to Patrick. 

They exchanged leisurely kisses until Pete began his quest down Patrick’s body, leaving open-mouthed kisses and faint bruises along his path to Patrick’s crotch.

Patrick watched as Pete bypassed his erect penis, opting instead to continue his journey down Patrick’s hips until finally landing between Patrick’s thighs.

He spread Patrick’s legs wide open, kissing his inner thighs, sucking dark bruises that stood out starkly against the pale skin.

He sucked first one, then the other of Patrick’s balls into his mouth, feeling the weight of each on his tongue.

Patrick quietly moaned before burying his fingers in Pete’s short hair.

Pete went lower, slowly licking a wide stripe down Patrick’s perineum over his opening.

Patrick gasped and grabbed his cock, beginning to stroke it.

Patrick felt Pete bat his hand away and replace it with his own, lapping at the entrance over and over while retrieving the lube from beside him on the bed.

Pete pulled back enough to place his slick finger at Patrick’s entrance, slowly sliding in his index finger, moving it back and forth until the entire digit was buried inside Patrick.

Pete raised his head and slowly began to suck on the head of Patrick’s dick, finger buried in Patrick.

“More, Pete, please!” Patrick murmured after a minute of this torture.

Pete smiled around Patrick as he pulled out the first finger and added a second, pushing them in slowly before beginning to scissor them inside Patrick, searching for his golden gland.

Patrick felt Pete’s fingers brush his prostate, causing a gasp to escape his lips.

He felt Pete sink further down his cock, increasing the pleasure Patrick was experiencing.

“More,” Patrick begged Pete, wanting Pete inside him as quickly as possible.

“Patience, Beautiful,” Pete replied as he removed his fingers and added a third, slowly reinserting them, stroking Patrick’s member at the same time.

After a few minutes, Patrick nodded to Pete, a nonverbal assurance that he was ready.

Pete withdrew his fingers and sat back on his heels between Patrick’s legs, his hands moving to jack his cock to full hardness while reaching for the condom.

“Wait,” Patrick said, grabbing Pete’s arm.

“I want to feel you. All of you. I’m clean, I promise.”

Pete looked deep into Patrick’s eyes.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Patrick nodded, watching Pete slick himself up.

Pete placed his left hand beside Patrick’s head, using his right hand to guide the head of his cock to Patrick’s entrance.

He slowly pushed in, taking his time while burying himself in his lover’s body.

Patrick smiled and pulled Pete down to kiss him, wrapping his legs around Pete’s hips, encouraging him to slide all the way in.

Pete was a gentle, thoughtful caring lover, whispering endearments and praise, frequently asking if Patrick felt comfortable.

Patrick ran his hands down Pete’s back, enjoying the feeling of his taut skin underneath his fingers.

Pete shifted his angle, which caused him to brush against Patrick’s prostate with every other thrust. When he heard Patrick moan softly, he brought his hand between them and began to slowly stroke Patrick's member.

“Pete, Pete, I don’t think I can last much longer…”

“Then come, Baby. I promise I’ll catch you.”

Pete increased the speed of his thrusts and the speed of his hand on Patrick, which caused Patrick to fall over the edge and experience a fulfilling climax.

As he was coming down from his orgasm, he felt Pete grab his hips tighter as his thrusts became erratic, culminating in Pete crying Patrick’s name as he filled Patrick while buried deep within his lover.

Pete’s forehead came down to rest on Patrick’s, his panting breaths matching Patrick’s own.

When he had gone soft, Pete pulled out and flopped onto his stomach on the sheets next to Patrick.

Patrick felt Pete’s come dripping down from his entrance to the sheets below him.

It felt like he now belonged to this man that he let mark him so intimately.

As he could hear Pete’s soft snores, he tried to figure out how he could ever reveal his past to Pete.

************************************************

A few hours later, Patrick opened the front door for Pete, who was putting on his winter coat.

They walked slowly down to the dock, hands entwined.

“I’ll see you next week, and we’ll celebrate an early New Year’s.” Pete said, his grin wide.

“It’s a date,” replied Patrick, returning the smile.

Pete gave Patrick a last hug and kiss before removing the ropes and hopping into the plane.

When Pete’s plane had disappeared, Patrick walked back up to the lodge, closed the door, and put on the David Bowie album Pete had given him for Christmas.

It wasn’t until after drinking half a bottle of white wine that he began to cry, feeling frustrated at himself for falling in love so quickly with someone he hardly knew.

**************************************

Patrick usually heard from Pete the next day, but his phone stayed silent.

On Friday, Patrick tried both calling and texting Pete.

He received no reply.

All day Saturday he stayed in bed, breathing in Pete’s scent that lingered in the sheets, using his laptop to compose email after email to his lover.

His inbox remained empty, except for the usual spam.

By Monday he was frantic, having spent the day before pacing the great room, going over every minute of their time together at Christmas, trying to figure out what he had done wrong.

His phone woke him up on Tuesday.

He jumped out of bed and grabbed it quickly, touching the talk button immediately.

“Pete?”

“Um, no, Patrick, it’s Seth.”

“Oh. Hey,” Patrick replied, crestfallen.

“Listen, Patrick, well, the thing is, Pete’s not going to be able to fly out to Wintertide tomorrow.”

Patrick felt his heart in his mouth, keeping him from answering.

“Do you have enough supplies to last for another week?”

“Is something wrong with him?” Patrick asked, confusion in his voice.

Seth remained quiet for a minute.

“Patrick,” Seth began softly. “As your boss I legally can’t tell you what’s happening with another employee.”

“I understand,” Patrick whispered, fighting back tears.

“But as your friend, I can let you know that he’s safe.”

“I have enough to get me through until next week.”

Patrick hesitated before continuing.

“Did - does ever talk about us?”

Seth sighed.

“Patrick, right now, you need to keep your focus on yourself and Wintertide. If Pete is unable to make it next week, I’ll get another pilot to fly out.”

“Oh,” Patrick mused out loud. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Aaron sends his love. If you need anything, call me.”

“I will. Goodbye, Seth.”

“Take care Patrick.”

***************************************************

Patrick was feeling really good at 11:55 p.m. on New Year’s Eve.

He had been drinking all day, starting with wine, and when that ran out, turned to the liquor cabinet and the expensive whiskey kept inside.

To say he was considerably inebriated was an understatement.

He had been thinking about Pete all day, and how they were supposed to have their first New Year’s kiss together yesterday.

And now, five minutes until the new year, Patrick found himself picking up his phone and dialing Pete’s number.

It rang twice before being answered.

“Pete?” Patrick slurred out immediately.

“No, I’m sorry, Pete’s in the shower right now.”

Patrick looked at the phone and frowned in confusion.

The person talking wasn’t Pete.

The voice coming through the earpiece was definitely feminine.

“Hello?” she said. “Can I take your name and have him call you back?”

Patrick dropped down onto the couch, eyes burning from both the alcohol and unshed tears.

“No, but you can tell him to go to Hell.” Patrick said before ending the call abruptly.

Patrick had one thought cross his mind as the clock struck midnight.

He had no wishes, no resolutions.

The single thought that crossed his mind was: 

‘Cheating bastard’

Patrick then proceeded to throw up all over the floor before passing out on the couch.

*********************************************************

Patrick was aware of two things when he finally woke up the next day.

Number one, the unmistakable stench of vomit permeating the air, and number two, his phone ringing nonstop.

Very loudly.

Patrick grabbed his head and picked up his phone, checking to see who on Earth would be calling him at this time the day after New Years.

Twenty missed calls from Pete.

Fifty text messages from Pete.

Six calls from Seth.

Three texts from Seth.

Patrick rubbed his fingers on his temples, determined to relieve his headache before trying to remember what had happened last night to cause both Pete and Seth to try so desperately to get a hold of him.

Patrick stood up slowly, and after navigating his way around the vomit, went into the en suite bathroom in search of some water and aspirin.

He finally located the little lifesavers in a bottle all the way in the back of the medicine chest. 

His phone began to ring again as he shook two out into his hand, chasing them with a glass of water.

He looked at himself in the mirror and cringed.

He had dark circles under his eyes, now bloodshot from drinking.

His clothes were dirty and rumpled; he couldn’t remember the last time he changed them.

He hadn’t bathed in days and his beard was overgrown, hygiene not a priority to him lately.

Patrick looked at himself and thought hard, trying to remember exactly what had happened the night before.

He remembered the wine, and vaguely the whiskey.

He remembered looking at the clock sometime close to midnight, and deciding to call Pete.

Fuck.

That’s right.

Pete hadn’t answered his phone.

A woman had.

A woman with curves, breasts, a vagina - everything he lacked.

Patrick shook his head at his reflection.

‘You’ve been played for a fool, idiot. You should have known a guy like him wouldn’t really be interested in you.’

Patrick pulled back his shoulders and shrugged.

Patrick could handle being a pity fuck - he only wished he had been let in on the joke.

**********************************************

Patrick cleaned up the vomit before taking a shower, marching into the living room soon after to turn his phone off when he could no longer stand to hear it ring.

He was heating up some toast for dinner when he heard the answering machine for the lodge kick on.

“Patrick, I know you are listening, so pick up the damn phone NOW!”

Patrick picked up the phone.

“What the hell, Patrick?” Seth ranted. “I get a hysterical call from Pete this morning trying to figure out where you are and why the fuck you won’t answer his calls.”

Patrick opened his mouth ready to defend himself.

Seth continued before he got a word out.

“Listen Patrick, I love you like a brother, but you need to get your shit together and start acting like a fucking adult and use your big boy words. I will not act as a relationship counselor for you or Pete!”

“But Seth,” Patrick said defensively, “A woman answered Pete’s cell phone last night.”

Silence, then a big sigh.

“You both need to talk. From now on, I’m out of it.”

Seth hung up the phone.

Patrick placed the receiver back on the hook.

He was in a state of shock; Seth had never talked to him that way before.

Patrick returned to the great room, grabbed his phone and began to charge it before going to eat his dinner.

An hour later, a scolded Patrick turned his phone back on.

He burrowed into his covers before dialing Pete’s number.

Pete answered on the first ring.

“Patrick? Patrick, please, you’ve got to let me explain.”

Patrick remained silent, so Pete barreled on.

“I’ve been ill for the past week, and my sister flew out from Chicago to take care of me. She’s the one who answered the phone on New Year’s Eve.”

“I was planning on calling you after I hopped out of the shower to wish you a Happy New Year, but when she told me a man had called and had told me what he said, I knew what you were probably thinking.”

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you ever since, to clear up the misunderstanding.”

Patrick sat quietly, listening to Pete’s story, reasoning it out.

“Patrick? Are you still there?”

“I’m still here.”

“Patrick, I love you. I would never hurt you.”

Patrick bit his lip, embarrassment causing him to become suddenly shy.

“I’m sorry Pete. I jumped to conclusions and acted like an idiot. Please forgive me.”

Patrick could hear Pete smiling over the phone.

“Nothing to forgive, ‘Trick.”

“Listen, I’ve got to drive my sister to the airport now, but can I call you later?”

Patrick smiled. 

“I’d like that.”

“Talk to you then, Patrick.”

“Bye Pete.”

***************************************************

Pete had Facetimed Patrick later that night, and had coached him through his first Facetime sexual encounter.

Patrick enjoyed it very much, as had Pete.

As they lay in their afterglow, Pete’s eyes began to droop.

“Will you sing me to sleep, ‘Trick?”

“Of course,” Patrick said before softly crooning “Your Song” to the screen. 

When he was sure Pete was fast asleep, he whispered “Sweet Dreams” and ended the call.

***************************************************

The next five weeks passed by in a whirlwind of calls, texts, Facetime sex, and weekly visits that, more times than not, ended up with the two of them in bed, sating the need for as much physical contact as possible during the handful of times they subconsciously knew they had left to be together.

“Next week is Valentine’s week,” Pete said casually as they watched TV on the couch, trying to feel Patrick out about it.

Patrick thought for a moment.

“Next week? But I don’t have a date for the Valentine’s Day dance!” Patrick teased.

Pete pulled Patrick’s chin gently up so he could look at his lover.

“Patrick Stump, would you be my Valentine?”

Without hesitation, Patrick replied.

“Only if you’ll be mine.”

*******************************************************

It was the 11th of February, three days before Valentine’s Day.

It was also a week before he and Pete would be leaving Winterlodge together, heading back to Anchorage where Pete would remain while Patrick would catch a connecting flight to his home in Chicago.

His and Ian’s home.

Patrick was slightly upset that he hadn’t thought of Ian for almost six weeks now.

Pete had barreled into his life and won him over with his wit, charm, kindness, and love.

The mindblowing sex didn’t hurt his case, either.

Patrick had thought little about exactly what would happen when the 18th of February arrived, putting off any kind of decision on the subject of his and Pete's relationship.

Who was he trying to kid? 

He was stalling, not wanting to broach the subject with Pete.

Patrick put a bookmark in that spot in his brain when he saw Pete’s plane come into view.

Pete brought the plane into a smooth landing, and after securing it to the dock, grabbed Patrick in a bear hug and kissed him soundly.

“I missed you, Babe.” Pete whispered. “Happy early Valentine’s Day.

“I missed you too. Happy early Valentine’s Day. Let’s get these chores out of the way so we can have a real celebration.”

“Sounds good to me,” Pete replied, winking at Patrick before turning back to the plane, pulling out a plastic box and handing it to the other man.

Patrick peered inside the box and laughed.

“You don’t think I could let my Valentine go to the dance without a corsage, do you?" Pete teased.

Patrick could only smile widely as Pete took the red rose corsage out of the box and placed it on Patrick’s wrist.

“Now, let’s get our chores done, so we can enjoy our day.”

***************************************

After a lunch of steak and baked potatoes (courtesy of Pete) the two men retired to the living room.

Pete and Patrick sat on the couch and turned on the TV, not really to watch, but to have as background noise.

Pete sat and nervously rubbed his hand up and down his thigh before turning to Patrick.

“I got you a Valentine’s Day present.”

Pete pulled a tiny thin box out of his front pocket.

“I hope you like it.”

Patrick stared at the black velvet box, a beautiful red ribbon wrapped around it, creating a bow on the top.

Patrick took the box and glanced up at Pete.

Pete nodded encouragingly, love and hope shining in his eyes.

Patrick felt panicfearlove run through him as he slowly untied the bow and opened the box.

Inside, laying on the pink satin lining, was a shiny silver key, the embodiment of Pete’s feelings for Patrick on display, a catalyst for their relationship.

Patrick bit his lip and tried not to cry.

Patrick truly didn’t know whether they were tears of happiness or frustration.

Pete sensed Patrick’s distress, and began to speak.

“Patrick, I know we haven’t spent much physical time together, and I know that we’ve only known each other five months.”

“But, the thing is, Patrick, well, I love you. With all my heart. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I keep coming back to the same conclusion:. I don’t think I can let you go next week. You’ve given me a reason to get out of bed in the morning and actually look forward to the day.”

“I promise I won’t pressure you about the future, I just really would like us to spend time together and give our relationship a chance to grow.”

“I truly believe that everything will work out in the end. We don’t need to know how, we just need to trust that it will.”

Pete picked up Patrick’s free hand, cradling it between his own.

“Patrick Stump, will you share, rent, utilities, and custody of a slobbery, smelly dog with me?”

Patrick laughed as he finally took his eyes off the key and looked deep into Pete’s eyes.

This.

This was a scenario he had never prepared for, an option that had never crossed his mind.

Patrick felt a mild jolt of panic.

Pete sensed Patrick’s unease and began to speak again.

“I don’t expect you to decide right now. I realize this is huge, and you need to weigh both the pros and cons in your own mind.” 

“Just promise me you’ll think about it ‘Trick. That’s all I’m asking for right now.”

Patrick’s motor functions took over, and his head slightly nodded.

Pete grinned widely and pulled Patrick to him, hugging him and kissing the top of his head.

Patrick pulled back and put on his best smile, filing this whole fiasco to the back of his mind where he could pull it out later and examine it from every angle. 

Right now, he wanted to get Pete's mind off the subject of cohabitation.

******************************************************

Patrick set the key down gently on the coffee table before pushing it away from the couch.

He then climbed on Pete’s lap, hips lazily grinding down to find Pete half-hard.

That wouldn’t do, that wouldn’t do at all.

Patrick draped his arms over Pete's shoulders before pulling his entire full bottom lip into his mouth, letting it slowly slip out.

Patrick then darted tongue out to lick his lips.

He looked at Pete with wide eyes full of both passion and lechery.

“Do you want your Valentine’s Day present now, Mr. Wentz? Have you been a very good boy while you were in Anchorage?”

Pete swallowed hard and nodded.

“I know you get off while thinking about me while you’re all alone. I thought it would be nice to give you something a bit more... memorable to put in your spank bank.”

Pete licked his lips as Patrick leisurely climbed off his lap, boldly grabbing Pete’s cock before straightening up.

He let Pete go and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, batting Pete’s eager hands away.

He took his time allowing the shirt to slowly slide down his shoulders, biceps, forearms. wrists and hands before fluttering gently to the floor.

Pete reached for him, but Patrick took a step back and shook his head.

“All good things come to those who wait, Mr. Wentz.”

“If you keep calling me that, Beautiful, the whole thing will be over before we get to the good part.”

Patrick smirked at Pete as he ran his hand slowly down his pale, freckled chest, landing on the button of his jeans.

He flicked the button open.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Wentz.”

Patrick unzipped his jeans and pushed them halfway down his ass.

Pete gulped loudly, his already hard dick twitching visibly in his jeans.

Pete’s present was a small pair of red satin panties, black lace delicately running along the sides and top, finished off with a small black satin bow sitting on the tip of Patrick’s cloth-clad straining erection.

Pete reached out a hand and gently ran a finger under the top lace, barely touching Patrick, admiring the contrast of the lace to Patrick’s pale skin.

Patrick’s breath caught in his throat as he chewed on his lip.

“I wasn’t sure you would like this kind of thing, but I thought I would try it and if you hated it we’d never speak of it again.”

Pete pulled Patrick onto his lap and proceeded to lay him out underneath him on the couch.

“You’re so beautiful. You make me happy no matter what you choose to give me.”

“But right now, I am really finding it hard to think about anything other than fucking you while you wear those pretty panties.”

Patrick’s face turned bright red. 

“Let’s go to the bedroom…”

Pete shook his head.

“No, I want you here. Do we need lube?”

“Yes, we ran out in here,” Patrick blushed. “There’s more in my nightstand drawer in the bedroom.”

Patrick lazily rubbed his erection while listening to Pete’s footsteps disappear down the hall.

A few minutes later he heard Pete enter the room slowly.

“Did you find it?” Patrick asked, not bothering to look behind him from where he was lying on the couch.

“Um, yeah, yeah I did.” Pete said in a troubled voice.

Patrick wrinkled his forehead in confusion; he had never heard that tone in Pete’s voice before.

As Patrick sat up to determine what had caused Pete so much distress, his eye caught the light reflecting from the small picture frame in Pete’s hand.

“Patrick, who is this?” Pete’s voice trembled as he held Ian’s picture up to show Patrick.

No, no, no, Patrick was not doing this right now.

He wasn't going to reveal his painful past to a man he had only known a few months.

Patrick snatched the frame from Pete’s hand, cradling it to his bosom.

“That.” he snarled, “Is none of your business.”

Patrick strode past Pete and entered the bedroom, placing the picture of Ian back in the drawer and closing it gently.

“Is he the reason why you won’t move in with me?”

Patrick stood with his back to Pete, pulling his jeans back up and closing them.

Taking Patrick’s silence as an assent, he continued.

“Is he in Chicago? Is he your husband? Boyfriend? Lover?” asked Pete, the tone of his voice becoming increasingly harsh.

Patrick turned around quickly to face Pete, fists clenching, angry tears rolling down his face.

He knew he should tell Pete everything right then, but misplaced anger and fear kept the words from coming out.

“I TOLD YOU IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!” Patrick screamed instead across the bed at Pete.

Pete gritted his teeth and frowned at Patrick.

“I think,” Pete roared, “it became my business around Christmas when I started fucking you without a condom. When I offered you my heart. When I offered you my home and my FUCKING DOG!”

Patrick stared at Pete.

“I NEVER asked you for ANY of those things!”

Pete sighed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Then please explain to me what the the fuck you thought we were actually doing here, Patrick? Where the hell did you see this going?”

Patrick shrugged.

“I thought we were having fun.” he said apathetically.

Pete jerked backwards, as if he had been physically hit.

“Having fun? HAVING FUN? That’s all I am to you, a bit of entertainment? What, like your own personal gigolo that brought you supplies and showed you different ways to fuck?”

“It wasn’t like that Pete,” Patrick sighed, his hand rubbing his temple.

“Then what WAS it like, exactly, Patrick? Explain it to me. Because I noticed something the other day.”

Pete took a step closer.

“Every time I fly up here, you are quick to get me in bed. You wanna know why I think you do that Patrick? So you won’t have to get personal. So you won’t have to let me into your life. So you don’t have to tell me the truth as to why you work up here alone five months of the year.”

Pete advanced again, staring at Patrick over the mattress where they had experienced intimacy so many times before.

“Do I have it about right Patrick? Is that why you never let me in? Because you thought it was just fun that was going on here?”

Patrick narrowed his gaze at Pete.

“It’s not like you were ever forthcoming about what was going on in your life, either. You never explained fully about New Years.”

“You never asked!” Pete scoffed. “I would have told you anything Patrick, anything at all! So please help me understand why you never chose to share one personal, intimate, meaningful thing about your life with me?”

“BECAUSE I DON’T TRUST YOU!” Patrick thundered out before collapsing in a heap on the floor, emotionally drained and heartsore.

He felt Pete sink onto the bed.

“Let me see if I understand this correctly. You let me put my unwrapped cock, not to mention my fingers and tongue, in every orifice on your body. You let me sleep next to you in your bed, knowing hardly anything about me. But you don’t trust me with your thoughts, your feelings, your life?”

Pete sat quietly for a moment, thinking.

Understanding dawned on his face.

“Now at least I understand why you showed no interest in meeting Hemmy, or in meeting my sister for that matter. It also explains the look on your face when you opened the box earlier.”

Patrick sat silently and cried.

Pete swallowed audibly.

“I wish I had never met you.” he said softly.

“Then there would be no need for me to want you. No need to love you. No need for acting like you care. No need for heartbreak.”

“No need for everything you’ve done to make me feel like absolutely nothing.”

“Pete, please, you don’t understand...” Patrick weakly pleaded.

Pete stopped at the door, back to the room.

“No, I guess I don’t, nor do I want to. Not anymore.”

“Goodbye, Patrick.”

Patrick heard Pete remove his coat from the hook, open the front door, and close it quietly behind him.

By the time he had composed himself enough to fling open the front door and run out to the dock to explain himself, it was too late.

Pete was nowhere to be seen on the horizon.

Patrick buried his hands in his front pockets for warmth, hurried up the path, and closed the door to the icy weather beyond.

The minute he saw Pete’s Christmas gift sitting on the coffee table, he fell onto the couch, willing himself to feel nothing but aloof.

So far, it seemed to be working so well for him.

**************************************************************

Patrick had gone to bed that night and got up the next day, going on with life as if nothing had happened.

He changed the sheets on the bed, straightened up the great room, made sure the kitchen was in order, and washed a load of laundry.

When his chores were done, he sat on the couch and turned on the TV, letting it drown out the ugly verbal grenades that he and Pete had effortlessly thrown at each other.

When bedtime came, he turned off the TV and climbed into bed, allowing himself to check his phone for any messages.

His empty phone screen stared back at him accusingly.

Patrick’s newly-acquired apathy, however, was losing ground in the war being fought with his broken heart.

*****************************************************

Two days later, on February 14th, Patrick’s phone finally rang.

“Hello, Seth.” he said calmly.

“Patrick,” Seth said quietly. “Would you care to explain to me why the best pilot I have ever hired put in his resignation AND requested not to do the last supply drop before we prepare Wintertide for reopening?”

Patrick remained silent.

“The same flight, I might add, that YOU have to take in order to get to the mainland?”

“I have no idea,” Patrick replied, no affectation in his voice.

Seth sighed loudly.

“Patrick,” Seth said softly. “I warned you before the season started to be careful with Pete. He’s a really great guy, handsome, funny -”

“Wait,” interrupted, finally realizing what his so-called friends had done. “Please don’t tell me you hired Pete specifically with me in mind? I mean what did you think you were doing? Did you think you were the thinking man’s answer to Tinder and that Pete and I would fly off, quite literally, into the fucking sunset happy and in love?”

“No,” Seth fired back. “I thought we were helping a friend maneuver his way through the grieving process and hoping one day he'd give life and love another chance!”

“I was doing just fine!” Patrick shouted.

“Yeah, not having to confront the loss of Ian five months out of the year!”

Patrick sucked in a deep breath.

Seth was silent for a moment.

“But you told me you understood - you GAVE me the job!”

“I also thought by now you would be ready to take some chances with life and love.”

“Look, Aaron and I love you, and only want what’s best for you. And if you had listened to any of my advice about talking to Pete, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

“I am TIRED of you telling me over and over to talk to Pete!” Patrick sobbed. “ If you know something I don’t, and it’s so important, then JUST TELL ME!”

“I told you before, Patrick, it’s not my story to tell. I will leave you with a last word of advice.”

“Google can be your best friend.”

Patrick was left staring at his phone screen, wondering what the hell Sean was trying to tell him.

****************************************************************

Patrick sat on his bed that night, laptop open on his lap, opened to the Google search engine.

With much trepidation, he typed in Pete Wentz Pilot.

He waited on pins and needles as Google searched the internet for any answer to the mystery that was Pete.

Suddenly, Google returned with a few links.

Patrick scanned them quickly, and decided to open the one to Associated Press.

Patrick’s breath caught in his throat.

PILOT ONLY SURVIVOR IN JAMAICAN FLOAT PLANE CRASH

CAYMAN ISLANDS - Pete Wentz, a pilot employed by Cayman Airways, was the sole survivor of a bush plane crash last Sunday that killed six people.

Officials say Wentz, a 30 year old Jamaican transplant from the United States, is a well-known local pilot with over seven years of flight experience.

It is reported that Wentz sent out a distress signal five miles out from the runway, citing trouble with one of the twin-engines of his Cessna 402.

Wentz tried to land the plane safely near the end of the landing strip, but the right engine stalled approximately seventy feet off the ground, causing the plane to tilt severely and crash sideways into the earth below.

The three couples,who were returning from a day trip to Kingston, died from their injuries at the Cayman Islands Hospital.

Officials went on to say that it is likely that Wentz will not be charged in the accident, due to the overwhelming evidence of engine failure at the scene.

Patrick sat staring at the screen in shock.

Pete, his Pete, had experienced the exact same tragedy he had.

Patrick’s heart ached for Pete, understanding what he must feel, knowing what it was like to feel the weight of crushing guilt on yourself constantly.

Patrick had told Pete he didn’t trust him.

It was a lie.

A lie he told himself and Pete to sabotage their relationship.

The real truth was that he trusted Pete implicitly, more than any other person in the world. 

Patrick’s heartbreak hit him like a freight train. He cried all night, wishing he hadn’t said those terrible things to Pete. 

It wasn’t just fun for Patrick, he had fallen head over heels in love with Pete.

In fact, he had known on some subconscious level that he had loved Pete the minute the pilot set foot on the Wintertide dock.

He loved the way Pete made him feel - loved, wanted, needed, safe.

Pete, he realized, had made him truly happy.

****************************************************

It took Patrick two days to work up the courage to call Pete.

He answered on the third ring.

“Hello.”

No Beautiful, no Babe, no ‘Trick.

Not even his name.

Patrick took in a shuddering breath. 

“Hello, Pete.”

They sat silently for a minute, each waiting for the other to say something.

“Did you need something? I was just about to walk my dog.”

Patrick smiled to himself.

“How is Hemmy?”

The phone went quiet for a minute.

“Now really isn’t a good time, maybe I can -”

“Pete, please, I need to talk to you. It’s very important. I need to explain -”

“You know what hurt more than losing you Patrick?”

“Pete, Please,” Patrick pleaded.

“It was the realization that you had no desire to fight to keep me.”

“Pete, I tried - ” Patrick sobbed.

“Please respect my wishes - don’t call or text me anymore.”

In the blink of an eye, a dial tone replaced the sound of broken glass and crunching metal as the soundtrack of Patrick’s despair.

*******************************************************

That night, he Facetimed Seth and Aaron.

He confirmed that the story reported by the Associated Press was in fact true.

The couple went on to tell Patrick how they had met Pete in his trinket shop in Jamaica and, while paying, had spotted his pilot license behind the counter.

They had asked Pete about it and he had confirmed that yes, he was a pilot with several years experience.

Seth and Aaron knew Gus was going to retire, so they asked Pete if he would consider moving to Alaska and flying the float plane that supplied their isolated lodge.

Pete was up front with them, open and honest concerning every aspect of the accident.

Seth and Aaron said they would return in a few days, allowing Pete to consider their offer.

They inquired about him around Kingston, and was bewildered to learn that Pete was thought of as a person who no longer held a standing in society and had few friends because he had been piloting the plane involved in the accident.

Seth and Aaron decided that night Pete had to come to Alaska to work for them.

When Pete had arrived in Anchorage, he kept to himself most of the time, afraid of being shunned like he was in Jamaica.

Afraid of being rejected.

Seth gently explained to Patrick that since the very first day he had met Patrick, Pete had called Seth and Aaron constantly, his voice full of life, his face beaming when they would load the supply plane together.

He had even started venturing out more into town, making some real friends - Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley.

Patrick listened to everything before he spoke.

“How is he doing now?”

Seth swallowed hard and shook his head at Aaron, moving away from the camera and allowing his partner to take over.

“He’s not good.” Aaron said. “He’s decided to move back to Jamaica in a few weeks. We tried to persuade him to stay, but…”

“But he didn’t want to be around me anymore,” Patrick finished.

Aaron just nodded his head.

“If it helps, just know he still cares for you…”

“But?” Patrick was scared to hear the answer.

Aaron stared at the keyboard, not wanting to meet Patrick’s eyes.

“But he's asked us to not tell you his address in Jamaica.”

Patrick silently nodded in understanding.

“We love you Patrick, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you too. Thanks for everything.”

Patrick ended the call, placed his laptop on his nightstand, staring at the small clay pot which used house Lennie.

The cactus hadn’t made it past Christmas.

‘You can’t keep anything you love,’ he chided himself.

*******************************************************

Seth and Aaron arrived the next day, a soothing balm for Patrick’s sore heart.

They talked about the weather, about the lodge, about the supplies, about the to-do list Patrick has created over his time at the lodge.

What they don’t talk about, however, is Pete.

Once the plane had been unloaded and Patrick had promised Seth and Aaron that he would indeed keep in touch, Patrick climbed on board.

Gus turned to Patrick and gave him a warm smile.

“Ready to go?

Patrick only nodded, afraid if he opened his mouth, he would begin to sob.

************************************************************

Later that day, Patrick sat in the waiting area of Gate C3 at Ted Stevens International Airport in Anchorage.

He had been sitting and staring at his tepid. weak, Starbucks idea of a proper cup of English Breakfast tea.

His head hung low between his shoulders, phone out, playing a mind-numbing game of Hidden Folks.

The plane for Chicago had pulled up to the gate half an hour ago, and was currently being cleaned and restocked.

Patrick’s seat was in the middle of the plane.

Another 45 minutes, and he would be free of Alaska for seven months.

Patrick laughed to himself.

He would never be free of Alaska, or its memories.

At that moment, he looked up to find two women sitting down in the seats across from him.

The younger woman placed a toddler on her lap, smiling towards the older woman as she leaned in for a kiss.

The toddler began to kick and fuss, so the mother let her gently slide to the floor.

She turned to Patrick, and his breathing stopped.

She had caramel colored eyes, and olive skin. Her dark curls framed her face, upon which was a smile with only two teeth inside.

She toddled on unsteady feet over to Patrick with her fingers in her mouth.

She stopped a foot away, removed her hand from her mouth, and began to wave shyly at Patrick.

Thoroughly enchanted by this ethereal creature, Patrick smiled and waved back.

The flight attendant called for first class and anyone with small children to board first.

The older lady came and gently scooped the little girl up in her arms.

“Wave goodbye, Donna.”

Patrick gulped loudly

All he could think of in that moment was ninja turtles,cactus, pumpkin, whipped cream, pantry doors, tattoos, pizza, Christmas trees, Bowie, red panties with black lace.

His phone buzzed to life in his pocket.

Patrick took the phone out and read the text..

Boss: 6200 Snow Goose Circle Anchorage - DON’T FUCK THIS UP!

“Last call for flight 7483 to Chicago through Seattle now boarding at gate C3. Please come to the gate with a ticket in hand. Thank you for flying with us.”

Patrick took one last look at his phone, tucked it into his pocket, and stepped forward.

***********************************************************

The sky had turned dark, and sleet had begun to fall, putting a damper on Pete’s plans to walk Hemmy.

He turned to walk to the back door in the kitchen, Hemmy following him.

“Sorry, buddy. This is the best I can do in this weather.”

Hemmy looked out at the sleet, turned his head around, and gave Pete a disgusted “Hargmph” before heading into the backyard to do his business.

Pete stood by the back door checking his phone until he heard a light scratching at the door.

He opened it and let Hemmy back inside, grabbing the dog and rubbing his paws and back off with a fluffy towel.

“There you go, boy, good as new.”

Pete stood back up and looked around the house.

The half-empty boxes stood everywhere; a testament to Pete’s procrastination.

In the silence, Pete heard a knock at the front door.

Seth and Aaron were at Wintertide, and Joe and Andy were at a jam session Pete begged off of.

Pete opened the door and smiled widely.

It was his next door neighbor Mrs. Shelton, who had brought him home-baked treats every week he had been in Anchorage.

“Come in Mrs Shelton! You’ll catch a cold!”

Mrs. Shelton laughed and hugged Pete tightly before entering the house.

“I baked some apple strudel and wanted to bring some over to you before it got cold.”

Pete leaned down, taking in the aromas of warm cinnamon and apple.

“Please, won’t you come have a seat?” Pete offered as he set the strudel down on the foyer table.

Mrs. Shelton shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m expecting Mr. Shelton home any minute.”

She glanced around the small house. “So the rumors are true - you’re moving.”

“Not just moving; I’m leaving Anchorage. I’m moving back to Jamaica.”

Mrs. Shelton frowned deeply.

“I’m sorry that the weather didn’t suit you, dear.”

Pete shrugged. “It wasn’t the weather, it was...something else.”

Mrs. Shelton studied Pete’s face for a few moments before speaking.

“Perhaps it’s not my place to say, Dear, but a wise person once told me, ‘Fear is temporary, regret is forever.’”

Pete could only nod and hug Mrs. Shelton tightly.

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear.

Mrs. Shelton patted Pete’s cheek. “I’ll miss you, dear boy…”

Pete escorted her to the door.

“Would you like me to escort you home?” he asked as he opened the door.

“No, I’ll be fine. Now don’t you leave without saying goodbye, all right?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Pete promised.

Pete watched as she turned and walked across the lawn to her own door.

****************************************************

Pete waved to his neighbor as she entered her house and began to shut his door.

“WAIT!” he heard someone shout. “PLEASE, WAIT! DON'T SHUT THE DOOR”

A very confused Pete opened his front door widely and gazed in wonder at the scene unfolding in front of him.

A bright purple 1995 Ford Fiesta was pulling up at the end of the paved driveway, the back window rolled down, maroon-clad arm flailing wildly. 

Before the car even had a chance to stop the back door flew open and out popped a very frenzied Patrick Stump, shouting “WAIT!” while struggling to remove a suitcase (which appeared to be bigger than the car) from the back seat. 

The minute Patrick had the suitcase wrestled onto the ground, the driver took off with a squeal.

Patrick adjusted his cock-eyed glasses and looked up the long, steep, icy driveway until his eyes found Pete.

“WAIT! PLEASE! DON’T SHUT THE DOOR!”

Pete watched in half amusement, half awe as Patrick slipped and slid his way up the driveway, falling a few times, even losing his suitcase to the road below.

But Patrick barreled on, determined, through the sleet, in just a light sweater and jeans.

He had lost his beanie somewhere near the mailbox.

Finally, still shouting, knees and bottom wet, hair plastered like tiny icicles to his face, Patrick reached the door.

He looked up at Pete, pleading.

“Please don’t shut the door,” he whispered.

Pete swallowed hard and looked down at Patrick, now shivering on his doorstep.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d already be in the air by now.”

Patrick wiped his glasses off and straightened his clothes.

“I have to - no, I need to talk to you. It’s very important.” Patrick said through chattering teeth.

Pete bit the inside of his lip.

“I’m through talking, Patrick.”

Patrick wiped his nose and shook his head.

“Perhaps you are, but I’m not.”

“I have a story I need to tell you, that is, if you’ll let me.”

Patrick looked at Pete, biting his sinful lip, a hint of hope in his eyes.

“Please? I’m begging you, I only need a few minutes of your time.”

Pete leaned out of his door slightly and turned toward Mrs. Shelton, who was standing on her doorstep.

She gave Pete a pronounced nod.

Pete moved out of the way and ushered Patrick in.

******************************************************************

Patrick stood in Pete’s foyer, shivering intensely, teeth chattering so hard it was giving Patrick a headache.

But none of that mattered to him.

He was just immensely relieved and thankful that Pete had let him in the door.

Hemmy waddled over to Patrick and began to sniff his shoes.

“This must be Hemmy,” Patrick said. He leaned down and began to pet the dog.

He looked around Pete’s house, noting the packing boxes peppered throughout the rooms.

“I hear you’re going back to Jamaica.”

Pete looked surprised. “How did you - oh. Our bosses.”

Patrick just nodded his head.

Patrick’s hair began to melt, sending rivulets of water down his face. 

His wet clothes clung to his body, making him feel very cold and vulnerable.

“Pete,” Patrick began softly.

“Wait,” said Pete, staring at Patrick as if trying to decide something.

Patrick stood for a second wishinghopingpraying that Pete hadn’t changed his mind and was about to send Patrick back out in the sleet.

Pete strode past Patrick and opened the door, disappearing into the steadily falling ice pellets.

Before Patrick could wonder where he had gone, Pete was back, Patrick’s suitcase in one hand, his beanie in the other.

“Are you hungry?” Pete asked.

Patrick could only shake his head.

“Then follow me,” he said, beginning to walk towards a staircase.

Pete led Patrick up the stairs and into a tastefully decorated bedroom, some items packed away in a box, but enough still out to allow Patrick a glimpse of Pete’s personal style.

Pete placed Patrick’s suitcase on the bed and flipped on the light in the en suite bathroom..

He walked in and started the shower, making sure the water wasn’t too hot.

Patrick stood hovering in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Go ahead and take a shower before you catch a cold. We’ll talk after.”

“I have to go downstairs for a few minutes; call me if you need anything.”

Pete retrieved a fluffy towel from the linen and placed it on the counter before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

Patrick stripped off his wet clothes and placed them in the bathtub.

He stood under the warm water, thawing out before washing with products that smelled like Pete.

Patrick felt a small spark of hope warm his heart.

******************************************************

Patrick dried off and exited the en suite bathroom with a towel tied around his waist.

He entered the empty room, opened his suitcase, and pulled out some dry clothes.

He quickly donned a tshirt Pete had given him a few months ago, his comfortable Batman lounge pants, and a thick pair of socks.

He took his toiletries into the bathroom and quickly brushed his hair and teeth.

He repacked his suitcase, closed it, and set it on the floor.

Pete hadn’t returned, so Patrick examined the room more closely.

A red and black bass guitar sat in one corner of the room, surprising Patrick.

He didn’t know Pete played the bass.

He saw Hemmy’s bed and toys in the other corner of the room.

Across from Pete’s dresser, Patrick’s eyes landed on an old stereo system, a stack of vinyl beside the turntable.

He approached the stereo.

Patrick hesitated before gently shuffling through the vinyls.

Yes, there was the expected Metallica and Def Leppard.

But he was also surprised to find The Smiths, Jeff Buckley, and Morrisey.

“I made you some tea to help you thaw out,” Patrick heard from the bedroom door.

Patrick straightened the albums quickly and turned around, blushing at being caught.

“I’m - I’m sorry for snooping. I really love music.”

Pete, now dressed in pajamas, gave Patrick a small smile.

“I know - it’s fine. So, tea?”

Patrick nodded and crossed the room to Pete, accepting the warm mug from his hands.

Patrick still felt that jolt of excitement as their fingers brushed.

He sipped the tea slowly, trying to keep it from spilling due to the shivering that, while had lessened, had not disappeared entirely.

When the mug was empty, Pete took it from Patrick’s trembling hands, placed it on the dresser, and led Patrick to the bed.

Pete pulled back the thick, soft comforter and sheets before he ushered Patrick between them, tucking Patrick in to warm him further.

As Pete turned to leave, Patrick loosely grabbed his wrist.

“Please don’t leave me,” he said, a pleading tone to his voice.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Pete smiled, turning to turn off the bedroom light before climbing into bed beside Patrick.

Patrick turned onto his side to face Pete.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, “for not closing the door.”

Pete nodded before pulling Patrick to him, tucking Patrick’s head under his chin and weaving his legs between Patrick’s.

He slowly began to stroke Patrick’s back.

“It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

“Pete, I’m -”

“Sssshhhh, we’ll talk tomorrow. Sleep now.”

For the first time in over a week, Patrick fell asleep right away, feeling cozy and safe.

*******************************************************

Patrick was back in the car with Ian, but now they were parked on the side of the road.

Patrick turned to face his partner.

“I’ll always love you,” Patrick said to Ian, “But I love Pete now. Please understand that you’ll always hold a place in my heart, but I need to move on.”

Ian smiled and nodded. “I understand. I want you to be happy, Patrick.”

“I’m so glad I had you with me for seven years.”

Ian nodded again.

“Go and live a full life Patrick - it’s all I ever wanted for you.”

Patrick leaned in to hug Ian, but he had gone.

***************************************************

Patrick awoke to a gentle shaking on his shoulder.

“Patrick - Patrick please wake up.”

Patrick opened his eyes to find Pete hovering over him in the semi-dark, a worried look on his beautiful face.

Pete slowly let his hand wander to Patrick’s face, touching his cheek softly before pulling back, allowing Patrick to see tears on Pete’s fingertips.

Patrick blinked up at Pete, chest now bare, framed beautifully by the soft light emitted by the light on the nightstand.

“What time is it?” Patrick asked.

“A little after midnight. Try and go back to sleep.”

Patrick shook his head.

“No Pete, I need to tell you a story, please.”

Pete nodded, and they turned to face each other.

*************************************

“His name was Ian,” Patrick began.

“I met him as a Junior in college when we worked the same shift at a small coffee shop.”

“It took me several weeks to work up the courage to ask him out, and was so glad when he said yes.”

“We fell in love, and after we graduated we moved in together in a house outside Chicago.”

Patrick stopped for a moment to search Pete’s face, finding only mild curiosity.

“Ian had bought us tickets to see Elvis Costello at The Elbo Room in Chicago.”

“We had one mixed drink apiece, wanting to be able to fully enjoy the music.”

Patrick took a deep breath.

“When it was time to leave, I begged Ian to let me drive. I was convinced I could get us home faster than he could.”

Patrick hesitated for a moment, and Pete offered a small smile of encouragement.

“I was driving home on the freeway, and Ian was teasing me about someone in the band.”

“While he was talking to me, I got distracted by something on the center console.”

Patrick swallowed and continued.

“I swear I only glanced down for a split second, but by the time I looked up, it was too late.”

“I watched the truck coming towards Ian’s door, headlights illuminating him from behind.”

“I will never forget the look on his face as he crumpled beside me from the impact.”

Patrick’s voice began to tremble.

“The next thing I remember, I was in the hospital, the doctor explaining to me that my partner of seven years, was dead.”

Patrick looked directly at Pete.

“It was all my fault - Ian was dead because I took my eyes off the road and ran a stop sign.”

“”Patrick,” Pete began softly.

Patrick shook his head. “Please, let me finish.”

“Soon after the accident, I called our close friends Seth and Aaron and begged for any job they could offer me at their isolated lodge.”

“I had been there before with Ian and knew it would allow me to be alone.”

“For three years I was in limbo, the future unclear.”

Patrick turned his soft gaze to Pete.

“But then I met you, and I began to feel happy and alive again.”

Patrick lowered his eyes.

“It scared me at first, and I was hesitant to love you.”

“And you were right. I was reluctant to let you get too close.”

Patrick looked back up at Pete.

“But I’m sorry, Pete.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you, sorry for the awful things I said, sorry for making you feel bad about yourself, sorry for the hurt I’ve caused.”

Patrick blinked hard and continued.

“You asked me what I thought we were doing, what I wanted.”

“I want to move on. With you. I want to live with you and love you forever. I want to go to bed with you every night and wake up next to you every morning.”

“I want to meet Hemmy and your family and your friends. I want you to meet my family. I want you to come back to Chicago with me so we can pick out a house together.”

“I want to watch laugh lines appear on your face, and grey hairs sprout from your temples.”

“I guess what it boils down to, Pete, is this: What I want most of all is for you to please give me another chance. I know I hurt you, and I will do everything in my power never to do it again. But I have faith in us, and what we can be to each other.”

Patrick silently stared at Pete, wishinghopingpraying he’d say he felt the same.

*****************************************************************

After a few minutes, Pete began to speak.

“Seth and Aaron told me they filled you in on my past. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“I thought you would feel dubious about our relationship if I told you about what had happened in Jamaica.”

“But after your story, I see how wrong I was.”

“I now know we understand each other more than anyone else in the world would.”

“I’m sorry as well for everything I said, I was jealous and hurt. I now understand more clearly what was happening.”

“You’ve told me what you want, and believe me, I want all that and more.”

Patrick smiled at Pete and reached out his hand, which Pete tentatively took.

“But there are things I need to tell you, too.”

“I’m bipolar. I’ve always been bipolar, it just became much worse after Jamaica.”

“I have days, sometimes a whole week when I can’t even get out of bed.”

“That’s the reason I couldn’t come to you on New Years. I couldn’t get out of bed, so my sister flew out to take care of me.”

Pete steeled his jaw.

“I tried to commit suicide twice - once when I was young, and on the one year anniversary of the crash.”

“I’ve never experienced true love, only quick fucks in the shadows of dark alleys.”

Pete chuckled.

“It’s nice to know someone will pretend to love you for five minutes, as long as you pay them enough.”

Tears began to fall onto the sheets between them, a mix of both Patrick and Pete.

“You loved me for me, and I had never experienced that before. You were funny, sexy, kind, everything I wanted.”

“When I walked out the door of Wintertide for the last time, I was sure I could forget about what happened between us.”

“I quickly discovered you had invaded my thoughts, my dreams, my life.”

“I thought if I ran back to Jamaica, I could forget.”

Pete smiled, Patrick glad to see that beloved grin again.

“I will be forever grateful to you for not giving up on me.”

Pete and Patrick leaned towards each other, meeting halfway and falling into a romantic, toe curling kiss.

Pete kissed the tip of Patrick’s nose.

“I love you, Patrick Stump.”

Patrick smiled, hand on the side of Pete’s face, pulling him in for another kiss.

“I love you too, Pete Wentz,” he whispered before closing the gap between their mouths.

********************************************************

After several hours of serious discussion where everything was laid bare (followed multiple orgasms), Pete was playing on his phone, Patrick tucked into his side.

It was early in the morning, and Pete was too wired to sleep.

He mindlessly stroked Patrick’s back as he tried to achieve a higher level in the game he was playing.

Hemmy waddled into the room and gave Pete a loud “Woof.”

“Quiet Hemmy,” Pete scolded the dog. “You’ll wake up Patrick.”

Pete gently uncurled his arm from around Patrick and crawled out of bed. 

When he finished dressing, Pete quietly left the room, descended the stairs, and opened the front door.

He watched as Hemmy wandered around the yard, choosing the best spot to do his business.

He caught a hint of red out of the corner of his eye, and glanced down to spy a covered basket on his stoop. 

Pete pulled the corner of the red cloth back, revealing an assortment of warm, heart-shaped fruit pastries.

Pete read the pink note tucked inside.

I’m happy for you, Dear. Your Fairy Godmother

Pete grinned widely and glanced over to Mrs Shelton’s house.

She was leaning out of her doorway, smiling back.

Pete blew her a big kiss and gave her a huge thumbs up.

He whistled to Hemmy and went in the house, a spring in his step.

************************************************

Pete grabbed two bottles of water before heading back up the stairs, basket still in hand.

He paused in the doorway and watched his lover sleeping.

He looked so peaceful.

The covers had fallen down to reveal the expanse of his pale back, allowing just the dimples of his ass to show.

Pete loved him more than anything.

Patrick stirred in his sleep and reached out to find the other side empty.

He raised his head up and gave Pete a lazy smile.

“Why did you leave me? Are you okay?”

Pete walked across the room and sat down beside Patrick, placing the waters on the nightstand.

“I’ll never leave you again, and I’m deliriously in love.”

Patrick leaned up to give Pete a lingering kiss.

“Isn’t it a coincidence? So am I.” he teased.

Patrick reached for Pete’s hand, but encountered the basket of goodies. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” Pete replied, kissing Patrick's nose.

“It smells delicious. Did you make it?”

“No,” Pete smiled, “My fairy godmother did.”

***************************************************************

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

Seth and Aaron stood on the dock of Wintertide lodge, watching the supply plane approach the dock.

“Are you ready?” Aaron asked his partner.

“As ready as I can be, considering the situation.”

The plane pulled up to the dock, cutting its engines.

Seth and Aaron had just finished securing the plane to the dock when the plane door opened.

Suddenly, a pair of KEEN Targhee High Lace boots jumped onto the dock, followed more gingerly by a second pair.

Soon after, eight paws were clicking quickly down the dock, headed for the open meadow in front of the lodge.

“Hemmy! Penny! Don’t go too far!” Patrick yelled before smiling and wrapping Sean in a big hug.

“Babe, I don’t think they understand you,” Pete remarked before pecking a kiss to Patrick's cheek.

Pete gave Seth and Aaron quick hugs before running after their four pawed children.

“Let me give you a hand,” Aaron shouted before running after Pete.

Seth linked his arm in Patrick’s.

“So…”

Patrick turned and gave Seth an innocent look.

“So spill it! I want to hear everything.”

Patrick smiled lovingly at his boyfriend plating in the meadow before beginning.

“Seth, I am so in love with him. And I’m confident he loves me too. I sold the old house, and Pete and I are fully moved into our new place in North Shore.”

“We found a really nice dog park nearby where we take Hemmy and Penny to make new friends.”

Patrick smiled.

“Penny was the perfect housewarming gift from Pete.”

“Pete’s been hinting around about marriage and children, and we plan on having a serious talk about it while we’re here.”

Seth stopped on the porch of the lodge and smiled at Patrick.

“I’m glad there will be a couple taking care of the lodge now, especially since one of them is a pilot. I hope you both can create many more good memories here.”

Patrick placed his hand gently on Seth’s arm.

“Seth I can never thank you enough for sending me that text. You gave me a second chance to find true love.”

Seth turned back from watching Pete and Aaron playing with the dogs.

He winked at Patrick.

“Just think of me as your Fairy Godmother.”

fin.

.


End file.
